


bloodsport

by serenitysea



Series: bloodsport [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, and entirely too much time is spent on various rooftops, and hydra helps them avoid awkward conversations, but isn't that pretty much how these two do EVERYTHING?, but not the usual kind, expect things to get worse before they get better, in which skye and ward form an uneasy alliance and it might just kill them, roadtrips are the best ways to get to know someone, this might be a love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time when Skye had to go on the run because she knew it wasn't safe for her to stay with SHIELD... and Ward was the only one who could go with her. </p><p>Post-finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i drive you crazy but you always return

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, there was an amazing person who created a Skye/Ward vid set to Raleigh Ritchie's _Bloodsport_. I don't know who the person was (so i'm sorry I can't give you the appropriate credit!) but it then became my Skye/Ward ANTHEM. Like, if there was ever a song for these two -- IT IS THIS SONG. 
> 
> If you do nothing else all day, go out and download it. And then listen ~~obsessively~~ to it. 
> 
> God bless you, video maker. The Skye/Ward ship thanks you. 
> 
> Also: By no means am I condoning Ward's actions in the finale. Everyone has to square with that on their own.

nothing is perfect but your imperfections are quaint   
your love is worth it and for that i will wait   
and though you hate me when you have a turn   
i drive you crazy but you always return.  


_bloodsport | raleigh ritchie_

* * *

**This is how it begins:**

Skye refuses to see him for weeks.

Coulson doesn't push it. He doesn't seem inclined to want to discuss it -- even though Skye knows what the rumors are. ( _"Apparently, he's in love with her." "He went to extreme lengths to save her life." "He would probably tell them everything -- as long as she's the one asking."_ )

When it seems like she's staring to vibrate with impatience and anger, Coulson drops a file onto her lap.

"It's not exactly light reading material. But I think you might be interested in what it has to say."

They've been through a lot -- her and Coulson. It isn't like him to be this cryptic, even if he is the new Director of SHIELD.

Skye opens the file and slams it closed immediately. "You too, AC?"

Coulson's reaction is not one of shame but a softness in his eyes that she cannot quite comprehend. He puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes briefly. "You owe it to yourself, Skye. It might give you some answers."

* * *

It is a near thing, but Skye manages not to throw up after reading the contents of the Ward's file.

Much of the information she'd read had never been discussed or even alluded to, before. She remembers him talking about his brothers, and in Providence he'd mentioned a sister… But Skye had chalked it all up as a loss; included it under his laundry list of things that he'd lied about while infiltrating the team.

She honestly didn't know he'd been telling the truth.

* * *

The door opens and Ward refuses to look up. He doesn't offer anything verbally and even goes so far as to close his eyes in defeat.

Skye wonders how they're getting information out of him and still doesn't know if this is a good idea. It was easier when she could just channel her frustration into hatred for him, and anger because she'd felt so betrayed. It wasn't that simple anymore.

She doesn't know how to go about doing this.

The last time they'd spoken, they were hurling angry words at each other like knives seeking purchase on any exposed weakness. He'd had a gun trained on her and she walked forward to meet him, knowing she was the bait (and perhaps more disturbingly, sickeningly confident that he wouldn't shoot her.)

Ward still hasn't reacted and subsequently, she hasn't moved. She has to get the ball rolling but feels that her judgment has been severely compromised. (How on earth Coulson thought it was a good idea for her to read Ward's file was beyond her.)

"I'd say you scored some nice digs, but, well…"

At the sound of her voice, Ward's head snaps up and the look in his eyes is frantic. "Skye."

"I can't say you don't deserve this, though I'm not really sure what to think right now, about everything. Coulson says you've been cooperating. May's knuckles have healed over for the first time in weeks."

"You shouldn't be in here."

"And _you_ don't get to make those decisions for me anymore." Her response is reflexive more than anything else, but she can't quite keep the frustration from her tone.

"No, I mean." He takes a deep breath (and she knows that had to hurt, his ribs are still healing) and attempts to speak plainly. "It isn't _safe_ for you to be here."

"Even if you were up to it -- and we both know you _aren't_ \-- I highly doubt you're going to try anything with everyone watching on the other side of the privacy glass."

Ward goes still and focuses on breathing calmly for several moments. She recognizes the technique from their training days, when she would misbehave or ask something that truly exasperated him to the point where he had to force himself to calm down rather than give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction from him.

"I wasn't talking about me."

Even without the file, Skye knows enough of this man (of who he _was_ , at least) to know there's something else at play. "Start talking, then."

For a second, she thinks there is a glimpse of the old Ward in the irritated glitter behind his eyes but it fades too quickly for her to dwell upon it.

"If you believe nothing else, if you can't trust me with anything -- _trust me on this_ : you need to get out of here, and you need to _run_."

Despite the chill that races up her spine at the raw intensity in his voice, she casually pulls out the chair and sprawls into it. " _No_."

He clenches his jaw so tightly she thinks she can hear his molars grinding together. "Damn it, Skye. This isn't me being difficult or refusing to give you intel that could save lives."

"Then what is it?"

"Not that you'd believe me --"

"-- _Try_ me."

"-- But I am _trying_ to protect you." The statement echoes from a time that feels like it was decades in their past. When she doesn't respond, just continues to stare at him quietly, he frowns. "Why aren't you laughing in my face?"

"Because I believe you."

* * *

Ward feels like the earth just opened up and is ready to swallow him whole. She _believes_ him? How? More importantly: _why_?

Saving him from further introspection, Skye continues. "You screwed up and FitzSimmons are at the very top of that list. I can't promise you anything there and we both know they're fully justified in hating you for the rest of their lives. May has worked through most of her anger towards you and Coulson seems to think you're worth saving."

He isn't sure where he gets the courage from when he asks, "And you?"

Skye stares at him with something unreadable in her eyes. "Not sure yet."

Ward ruthlessly squashes the hope that bubbles forth at the confidence she is broadcasting. He can't afford to let her know how much that means to him. "Skye, this is important. Talk to Coulson. Figure a way to get out of here and disappear."

Skye frowns. "You still want me to run."

Though the thought of her being alone out there with god knows who after her made his heart clench in fear, it was better than being a sitting duck here, waiting for Raina and who knows who else coming to grab her.

" _Yes_ , I want you to run."

"You're the one who trained me to fight. You have to know I'm not giving up that easily."

"This isn't a fight you can't win."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not leaving them, Ward."

Fear grips his heart and he wishes he could tell her the truth: It will be a _bloodbath_ if she doesn't. That it would be kinder for her to leave; that they all stand a fighting chance to survive if she's not there for them to be compromised with. She must read some of it in his face anyway, because she turns white and her hands start to shake.

"It's really bad, isn't it?"

Ward thinks of the eerily disturbing look in Raina's eyes and nods gravely. "Worse than we thought."

Skye stands abruptly and begins pacing in the cell, trying to burn off some of her nervous energy. "So I can't win, and I'm endangering the people I love by sticking around. What exactly is my move here?"

"You run. You're smart enough to figure out a way to stay two steps ahead of them at all times and you run. Whatever you do, _don't stop._ "

The look she gives him as she walks to the door is unfathomable -- then she's gone.

Ward closes his eyes and tries to drown out every protective instinct that is screaming to high alert in his body. Skye is stubborn as all hell, but she's smarter than most people give her credit for. If she's managed to put this many pieces together from the vague truths he gave her, odds are she's packing her things right now.

He wonders where she'll go first and hopes it's somewhere nice. She deserves to go somewhere nice for once.

Startling him out of his thoughts is hearing the door clang open once more. Coulson is framed in the doorway, and tosses a large bag at his feet. "You're leaving in ten minutes."

"… _Sir_?"

Ward is utterly confused.

"We've confirmed what you've told us, and all of your intel has checked out. If I thought you were going to kill her, it would have happened already." He steps inside the cell and sighs heavily. "I can't send her out there alone and anyone else would be signing up for a suicide mission."

"You want me to go with her."

"It seems like you're the only one who can."

This is wrong. This is entirely wrong and not at all the way things are supposed to be going. Maybe the torture has messed with his mind more than he thought possible because the next sentence out of his mouth is going to be blatantly insubordinate. "This is a terrible idea."

"Her plan was even worse."

Ward stares at Coulson blankly and shakes his head. "No. That could only happen if she willingly turned herself over to them and --"

"-- Why do you think I said it was _worse_?"

He feels like he just got punched in the lungs. With a sledgehammer.

"Why the hell would she do that?"

"Because it would keep the people I care about safe," Skye says, leaning in the doorframe. "Now c'mon. We've got a plan to formulate and not much time left."

Coulson sighs heavily and watches both of them with sadness in his eyes. "Skye, I really wish you would reconsider."

"I know, AC." She smiles up at him briefly. "But I'm done with people I care about getting hurt because of who or whatever the hell I am. This ends now."

* * *

Weeks pass.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, when they haven't seen signs of life for over three days and only have some wildlife for company:

"You weren't trying to hurt me that day."

They don't need to identify which day in question because there is really only one day that matters.

That she says this without a trace of doubt has anger snaking through his veins and makes him clench his fists. "Oh, I kind of think that I _was_ , actually." Who is she to speak so casually of his motives?

But Skye doesn't flinch, doesn't back down. She is still as reckless as she ever was. "You were trying to get me to _leave_."

All the air comes whooshing out of Ward's lungs in a rush and leaves him temporarily breathless. "How can you know that?"

"Because I know _you_."

And for a moment, they are back on the Bus in the gym, stripped down to their fighting gear and spilling their guts while he bandages her knuckles. He is her SO again and she is his reckless, impulsive rookie agent in training.

Ward shakes his head and tells himself to let it go. "That's a hell of a lot more than I know these days."

* * *

{ Here's the thing: He trained her. Every bit of her flight response was relentlessly overridden with _fight_. She knows what she can handle -- and more importantly, _he knows what she can't _.__

She can't handle hearing her parents were monsters. ( _Are_ monsters?)

Skye has spent her entire life searching for answers and _this_ one might break her.

Ward refuses to let that happen. He won't let her life get ripped away from her; not now, when she's just beginning to figure out what she wants and who she is. Not now, when Coulson and May have stepped in as the best surrogate parents anyone could have asked for.

Skye is not tainted with evil. (Not the way he is.)

Ward knows if he can just hit the right buttons… that fight response he trained into her will give way to _flight_.

(And _oh_ , he needs her to get out of here.) }


	2. we are an army that breaks from within (but that's why we're stronger -- and that's how we'll win.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, chapter two! 
> 
> There is a lot in here that is either mirrored by one or both of the characters or may come up later. I also threw in some humor for good measure... because I can't do angst all the time. It'll kill me. Some hints are also laid in for the following chapter, if you know what to look for... Also, this chapter is quite a bit longer than the first, so thank you for your patience as I struggled to get it written over the past week and a half! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_although you love me_  
 _sometimes we're mean_  
 _things can get ugly_  
 _but we're still a team_  


_we are an army_  
 _that breaks from within but_  
 _that's why we're stronger_  


_and that's how we'll win_  
bloodsport | raleigh ritchie

* * * 

**This is how it continues** : 

* 

"Teach me how to kill a guy with my bare hands." 

They don't have the luxury of traveling anonymously in hotels and have to literally hoof it across the country. Currently they are hiking through unmarked territory, heading for lesser-guarded boarders so that they can eventually leave the country undetected. They've been camping for weeks and Skye hasn't complained once. 

(He thought she would have the second night, especially since it had been colder than they expected. Skye simply zipped up her jacket and rolled over to sleep. When he awoke the next morning, he found her eating a granola bar and staring off into the distance. 

She does that a lot these days. He is always careful not to intrude on those moments or question her behavior. They have a ways to go before they can trust each other again -- if for no other reason than to watch the other's back in the middle of a fight.) 

Ward turns to her with a half smile on his face, sure that she is joking. Then he sees the intense look in her eyes. "You're serious." 

"If you're down for any reason, or we get separated, I need to be able to defend myself." 

"I agree. But there are other ways to do that and --" 

"-- I need to know, Ward. The gloves are off now." The rest of her sentence remains unspoken but they both know that the people after her aren't looking to be subdued. They want to bring Skye in and will stop at nothing to accomplish it. ICERs aren't good enough anymore. She needs to wound to kill. 

So he teaches her. It is not as long of a process as he thought it would be. Skye is a tactile person and has always been a fast learner, once she'd put her mind to it. Despite the fact that they haven't trained properly in months, the roles come back with an alarming ease. 

Much the way things had proceeded on the Bus, he finds it is not difficult to resume their previous regimen. Though they lack the basic equipment, he includes her in his early morning ten mile run and finds other ways to incorporate strength training. He makes sure she lifts properly and doesn't do anything that might cause a sprain. They don't have the luxury of treating injuries the way they used to. Everything they do is so careful now. 

(Ward knows this so much bigger than camping in the woods.) 

They take turns breaking camp and getting food. 

He gives it another a week before they reach civilization. They'll probably be able to keep from killing each other before then. 

(He hopes.) 

* * * 

The first time they encounter a small contingent of soldiers, Ward is fending off the advances of five different men to Skye's two. He can't keep an eye on her and defend himself at the same time. When the dust settles, they're the only ones left standing. One of Skye's men has a bullet between the eyes. The other is face-down in the dirt, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. 

Skye is breathing evenly and there blood staining her knuckles. He watches as she methodically wipes down her gun and holsters it back into place. She is automatically cleaning up the scene to ensure they were never there. 

(Of course she is. He taught her, and he was very thorough. Lord knows what else she's managed to pick up from him.) 

He clears his throat to get her attention. "I'm going to check the perimeter. Eyes up." She nods to convey her understanding and he knows she will be able to defend herself in the interim. 

Ward can only make it another forty feet before he vomits. 

This is not how things are supposed to go down. 

* * * 

An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town that provides their first actual roof over their heads in what feels like months. Maybe this is what gives Skye the courage to begin asking the questions she'd held off on during their stint in the wilderness. 

"Why did you do it?" 

It is open-ended and could be regarding any of his actions over the past year. She makes no attempt to clarify what she would specifically like an answer to, so Ward figures she is leaving it for him to choose. 

He goes with FitzSimmons. (Because a day never goes by that he doesn't regret it.) 

"He would have killed them pointblank if I hadn't. I thought it was the only way to keep them safe and get them off the plane. Fitz nearly _killed_ Garrett with a toy EMP from the 40s. Garrett was out for blood -- and I wasn't about to give him the chance." 

Skye doesn't reply, just continues to stare at him in silence. He isn't sure if he should feel condemned or relieved by her lack of answer. 

(Or why, after everything that has transpired, it feels like this girl holds his life in her hands.) 

"I'll take the first watch." 

Ward nods and they don't speak again until it's his turn to let her sleep. 

* * * 

In a filthy hotel room where the proprietor had not spoken English: 

"I'm sorry I called you a monster." 

Ward looks up from where he is cataloging their supplies. "Why? That's what I am." 

"What? No. _Ward_." For the first time since everything went sideways, Skye initiates contact and grabs his hand. "You had a horrible life. Garrett preyed on that, and was abusive and manipulative --" 

"-- How do you know this?" The initial elation he feels due to her her vehement defense is giving way to suspicion. They hadn't talked about this before, ever. 

"It doesn't matter --" 

"-- Actually, I think it _does_." He gets up and backs away from her because he feels cornered and the picture that is starting to form in his mind isn't a good one. " _How_ , Skye?" 

She meets his anger head on, refusing to back down. "Coulson gave me your file." 

It feel like everything implodes. 

He sees nothing but a black red haze of anger. All this time he thought they were making progress -- when in actuality, his entire life has been laid bare in front of her and there was _nothing_ she didn't know. It was humiliating and demoralizing and he can taste copper in his mouth from biting down on his tongue. 

"Go away." 

"Not a chance." 

"Skye. I am _not asking_. You're going to get hurt if you stick around right now." 

"I can take it." 

"Trust me," he chuckles darkly, hating the situation, hating that there is nowhere to go for privacy or to lick his wounds in peace. "You can't." 

Skye steps up until she is literally in his face. "You think you're the only monster here? That no one else has that kind of darkness? That you're so _damaged_?" 

For reasons he cannot fathom, she is doing her damnedest to goad him into a fury. He _cannot_ handle this right now, not with the betrayal of his file and certainly not from _her_. 

(And yes, he recognizes how poetically ironic that is, coming from him.) 

"Give it _up_ , Ward. We're all monsters somehow." 

There is something detached and cold in her voice, and it allows him the ability to rein in his rage and focus on her more clearly. "Skye?" 

She looks utterly exhausted, white-faced and clammy. It doesn't add up -- he was the one with the rage building and churning like a tempest. She looks like the Hulk just used her as a toy. 

"You're not the only one with secrets." 

She disappears into the bathroom before he can demand an explanation or start to make sense of her rapid decline in the face of his anger. He hears the shower turn on and knows that they are done with conversation for the night. 

For a split second, he gives into the feeling of misplaced nostalgia and remembers when this girl was an open book to him. Thinks about conversation late nights on the Bus, when everyone else had gone to bed and there was a lightness to their harmless conversation. 

He wonders if they'll ever have a fraction of that back again -- or if she is going to be this coldly controlled woman, locked into her thoughts and secrets like a seasoned agent twice her age, with innocence burned away by experiences she never should have had. 

He misses the Skye who would destroy him at Battleship (and tease him _mercilessly_ ) like an ache. 

Something suspiciously like a sob catches his attention and though he has no right (and he knows it) Ward knocks on the door. "Skye?" 

She doesn't answer and he wonders if he'll need to pick the lock or break down the door to check on her. 

The shower turns on and he breathes a sigh of relief. There is no window for her to exit from or additional way to leave other than the door he is currently standing in front of. 

Ward exhales slowly and forces himself to settle down on the bed. They're not leaving until the morning. Might as well make the most of his time to sleep now. It could be a while before they experience real mattresses (such as they are) again. 

If nothing else right now, at least he can give her this. 

It's a start. 

* * * 

There is a takeout tray with coffee and some kind of bagged pastry on the nightstand when he wakes up. Skye is sitting up on the other bed, typing furiously on her computer. 

He flashes back to the last time he saw Skye at close range typing at a computer and it must show on his face because she suddenly says, "Relax. I'm not forwarding your picture to any local or federal governments this time." 

It is probably too early (in the morning and possibly in their interactions in general) for this type of conversation but he replies, "Glad to hear it. I'd hate to have to chase you down again." 

Her eyes lift from the screen and lock with his. "Like you could catch me this time." The corner of her mouth looks like it wants to curl up in a smile, but honestly, it's early and he hasn't had his coffee yet. It's entirely possible he is imagining things. 

Ward is content to leave the conversation there (because where it was headed equalled a literal dead end with Deathlok reaching through a windshield and pulling Skye from a car) as he downs the greasy pastry she'd procured and drinks his coffee. He can _feel_ his brain waking up and realizes that last night was probably the first halfway decent sleep he's had in months. 

"I figured we could fly out of a major hub and get lost in the crowd," Skye announces, leaning back against the headboard and setting her laptop aside. "Unless you have a better idea." 

He shakes his head. "No. The sooner we get off US soil, the better. SHIELD is still under scrutiny from all angles and no part of the government is going to want to help us out." 

"Normally this would be the part in the conversation where I would point out that we really don't exist," she slides down until her legs are crossed at the ankles and covers her eyes with an arm thrown over her face, "But that doesn't seem like it would pose much of a problem for you." 

(Ward remembers standing next to Garrett and taking that phone call. Spinning her a tale of Tom Brady and the Patriots. Ignoring the automatic clench in his gut, the one that seemed to dictate his _Agent of SHIELD_ actions at her warning that she was about to wipe him out of existence. Knowing that Garrett was counting on him to keep him alive, no matter the cost. What was another lost identity compared to life itself?) 

"No." He finishes his coffee and efficiently begins cleaning the room of their fingerprints and additional evidence that they were ever there. "Can't say that it is." 

(Who was he, if not a monster?) 

It takes roughly another fifteen minutes to finish erasing them from the room and Skye still hasn't moved from where she rests on the bed. He gives her another minute and casts a look over in her direction every so often. 

"Skye." Her eyes blink open and she stares at him wordlessly. "We should go now." 

She inhales sharply like she's bracing for something (he doesn't know what) and swings herself off the bed, automatically fisting her sleeves over her fingers to keep her prints and DNA safe on the inside where it belongs. He opens the door slowly and peers out before allowing her to exit. 

There is a beat-up looking diner across the street (probably where she got their breakfast) and a gas station not too much further down the road. Ward mentally revisits his plan to hitchhike to the next major city and starts to assess which car would be the least conspicuous to hot-wire. 

Startling him out of his thoughts is the sound of an engine turning over and he looks to see that Skye has vanished. He feels his heart clench sharply and panic begins to rise. _Not again_. 

"Hey!" Skye is leaning out the window, waving at him carelessly. "You planning on stickin' around for late checkout, or are we going to get a move on?" 

Ward closes his eyes briefly for strength and shifts the pack higher on his shoulder. He is down the stairs and standing outside the driver's door in seconds. "Scoot over." 

He can see the exact second she catches sight of the look on his face because the automatic protest dies in her throat. Skye nods and gingerly lifts her legs over the emergency brake until she is sitting in the passenger seat. 

He takes a moment to situate the mirrors and moves the seat back until he can stretch his legs comfortably. They'll need to ditch the license plates and swap them out for another set once they get to the next town, but other than refueling, this car should be able to get them to the airport. 

"Good job." Ward tells her, keeping his attention split between the road in front of him and the rearview mirror, hoping the owner of the car doesn't notice it has been stolen until they are at least a few hours away. He feels her turn to stare at him but refuses to say anything further. 

"I'm going to get some sleep." Skye announces, twisting to lower the seat back. "Try not to crash." 

She's doing it again, trying to goad him into some kind of reaction. Thankfully the coffee and food have kicked in, so it is easy to tamp down his knee-jerk protest. Instead he turns the radio on low and surfs until he finds an oldies station. 

The incredulous look on Skye's face is worth suffering through the next three hours of Elvis and his peers. 

(He is glad that Skye is well and truly asleep when Etta James comes on. That woman sings straight to the soul.) 

* * * 

The airport is a predictable scene of bustle and narrowly avoided disaster. Despite the irony of it being a high-security area, they glide in and through general security without any issues. He must be more tired than he thought because they're just a few feet away when he realizes they don't have photo ID for the checkpoint. He can't believe he made such a rookie mistake (honestly, where is his head?) when he feels Skye's hand ghost under his jacket and dip into his back pocket. 

It takes every ounce of training he has not to react. "Having fun?" 

The smile she responds with looks more like she's baring her fangs. "You know it." 

Casually, like it doesn't matter to her, like she has about a thousand other things on her mind, she reaches down and tangles their fingers together. Then she yawns widely and leans her head against his shoulder. "Can't wait until we get there," they step forward in front of the TSA Agent and she carelessly hands over a driver's license he's never seen before. The Agent stares at him impatiently, and he follows the hunch to reach into his back pocket, fingering smooth plastic and handing it over without missing a beat. 

"Soon enough," he promises, smoothly kissing the top of her head and taking their IDs back with a perfunctory smile. 

They make it to the gate with twenty five minutes to spare and take turns using the restroom. Ward discovers a small bundle of tens and fives in his other pocket and tries to recall when she could have been able to slip them into his pants without him noticing. He can't come up with anything and is about to purchase a soft-serve vanilla cone (always a favorite of hers) as a belated form of thanks when Skye comes around the corner, tossing something at him. 

Ward catches the takeout bag reflexively and can't hold back his disgust. "This is hardly what we should be eating." 

"Don't be such a girl. There's a salad in there for you." Skye takes advantage of the bag being held in his hands to dig out what looks like a horrifyingly large cheeseburger and box of french fries. She bites into the burger and moans appreciatively. "I'm going to miss this. They just can't over-process food this way outside America." 

Ward picks at his wilted salad with far less enthusiasm and viciously hopes she gets a stomachache from the greasy food. Skye coughs suddenly and looks at him with something like amusement in her eyes. "You don't have to pout over it. I'll share my fries," she shakes out half the box into his salad tray. 

The silence between them while eating is somewhat comfortable and for once, he doesn't feel like they are oceans apart. He feels like they might actually have a chance at outrunning Raina and whatever her operation entails. Beside him, Skye is crumpling up their wrappers and stuffing them into the bag. He takes the bag and disposes of it. Their flight is called for boarding and they get into line with their fellow passengers. 

Skye has her phone out and is filtering through email faster than he thought possible until he nudges her forward slightly. "We're up." 

She hands over her boarding pass with her eyes still focused on the screen and he offers the airline representative his pass with an apologetic smile. "She's connected to the damn thing, I swear." 

Skye lifts her head very slowly, registering his words. Still, she doesn't turn around or react in any other way when he tugs her down the jetway to the airplane. Once onboard, he stows their bags in the overhead compartment and takes his seat without further comment. 

It appears to be business per usual until a flight attendant comes by with a sugary smile. "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but you're in the wrong seat." 

"Could have sworn I had the aisle." Ward frowns and digs out his boarding pass, handing it over without protest. 

"We're oversold and seats do change rather quickly. Here, take a look at the manifest. You're just a few rows back, in the middle." 

Ward swears he hears Skye snicker once as he is led back to the exit row and gestured into the middle seat. When he tries to tilt his seat back, the man sitting in the window seat beside him says, "Nothin' doing, man. These seats don't recline." 

His phone pings once with an alert and he awkwardly fishes it out of his pocket, trying his best to shrink his long limbs and broad shoulders. There is a text message from an unknown number. 

[ ** _Guess it pays to be connected._** ] 

Ward sets the phone down with a distinct click and grits his teeth. _Damn it_. 

The passenger in the aisle seat to his right, is already fast asleep and snoring loudly. Meanwhile the window passenger hasn't mellowed yet and is ripping open what looks to be a homemade egg salad sandwich. It _reeks _.__

He shifts restlessly and bangs his knee into the seat in front of him. There is nowhere to tuck his elbows in except to fold his arms awkwardly, like he is in a straightjacket. (There was a metaphor there but he wasn't going down that road. No sir.) He tries to lean back and wedge his shoulders in between the two passengers on either side of him and they remain unmovable. 

The next eight hours were going to be absolutely brutal. 

* * * 

By the time they land in Heathrow, he has been awake for a collective twenty one hours, cranky and dangerously close to throwing in the towel on this entire thing. (There is a _reason_ sleep-deprivation is used as a method of torture on prisoners of war.) Skye, on the other hand, looks perfectly refreshed and rubs at her eye sleepily before turning to him with a near-smirk on her lips. 

"Rough flight?" 

Ward refuses to give her the satisfaction of a reply and focuses on breathing deeply. She chuckles softly and loosely threads an arm through the crook of his elbow. He is almost startled at the contact but remembers that they are still playing along with the cover she set up while still in the States. 

"C'mon. Let's get out of here." 

It seems she has taken point on this leg of the journey and he is too tired to analyze why he doesn't fight her on knowing the details and particulars of where they are headed next. She sidles closer to him until he his forced to drape an arm over her shoulders (this day just keeps getting weirder) and he realizes that she is literally forcing him to lean on her to take some of the physical weight from his exhaustion. 

He sort of fades in and out of awareness as she gets them a cab and gives the driver an address. The last thing he remembers is Skye helping him out of his pack to lay it on the seat between them and then everything is black. 

* * * 

Ward wakes up feeling a hundred times better. 

He scans the room for signs of life and tells himself not to panic because he can't hear her moving around in the room. The hotel room is a step up from their last one, but by no means five-star quality. Skye knew better than to put them high up on anyone's radar and recognized the importance of blending in with the everyday citizen. It will be difficult to find them if she keeps them on this path, simply because the sheer amount of people that would have to be filtered through is massive. 

There is a note on the table next to him. 

_Getting food and supplies …Take a shower._

He rolls his eyes and crumples the note in his hand. On the plus side, if she's feeling comfortable enough to openly make fun of him, it is pretty likely to assume she isn't cutting her losses and leaving him behind. To be honest, he hates the feel of airplane travel on his skin (the Bus somehow being the only bizarre exception to that rule) and tries not to be irritated that she knows that much about him. 

(They'd lived together for months. Not _everything_ had been a lie.) 

When he gets out of the shower and steps back into the room, Skye is sitting at the desk, deeply focused on whatever is on her screen. She absently reaches for the sandwich at her left and enters a few more keystrokes. It looks like she is about to pop some fries into her mouth when she stops midway there and turns her head to look at him. 

He hadn't anticipated her back so soon and so he's only got a towel slung low around his hips. 

Skye lifts her eyebrows at his bare torso and raises her beer to him in a mocking toast. "There's food and beer in the mini fridge if you want." 

He can't believe she is speaking so nonchalantly about this while he is standing half naked in front of her. She clearly acquired nerves of steel while he was away. Then he catches sight of the slight trembling in her fingers as she continues to type and has to hide a smirk. 

_Ward: 1. Skye: 0._

Maybe if he wasn't feeling so frayed from the trip here he might have tried to push some of her buttons by getting dressed right then and there. But they're supposed to be working _together_ and not trying to see who can outmaneuver the other person. He magnanimously decides to be the bigger person and takes his clothes with him to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

Skye lets her breath out in a huge whoosh of air and covers her face with both hands. "Woof." 

* * * 

They stay in London longer than Ward would have ordinarily preferred -- but Skye has chosen their hiding place well, so it is easy to disappear amongst the city's inhabitants rather seamlessly. He supposes that is why they get careless and are spotted one day by Regent's Park. 

(Privately he is embarrassed that Skye noticed their tail before he did. He's supposed to be _protecting_ her, not the other way around. This kind of sloppiness is how people get killed.) 

Ward doesn't want to give the public cause for alarm, nor draw attention to himself and Skye, and takes a few seconds to catalog the nearest exits with the least amount of bloodshed. 

Skye infers enough to remain quiet and casually slings an arm around his waist, leaning into his side. "They won't be able to trace us at the hotel, I was careful. We'll need to get the rest of our things from the room before we leave." 

He relaxes ever so slightly as her body molds against his and turns to whisper in her ear under the guise of brushing a kiss along her temple. "I thought I told you to keep everything packed up in case we needed to make a quick getaway?" 

She glares up at him through her eyelashes. (No one would ever guess the look in her eyes was hot and murderous at his reprimand.) "My laptop needed to charge." 

Ward doesn't bother stifling his sigh of frustration and continues to guide them along a meandering stroll along the gardens and through the zoo that loses all but two of their pursuers, who are then dispatched quickly enough. (He has always had a fondness for London and their abundance of dark alleyways.) 

They make it back to the hotel without further incident and he quickly wipes down the room while Skye packs the last of their belongings like a whirlwind. (They discovered early on that she had a weird gift for packing with a ruthless efficiency that left nothing behind. It made for a rather tidy way to leave whatever hidey-hole they spent their time in, as he was much better making the physical evidence of their existence literally disappear.) 

She stuffs the laptop into her pack and nods. "Okay. We're clear. I erased our occupancy records and deactivated the hallway cameras." 

Almost seconds too late, Ward remembers that deactivating the cameras means they're about to enter the hallway blind and shoves them back into the room as bullets spray across the door. 

"Ooops?" Skye winces, looking sheepish. 

"I knew this was going too smoothly," Ward grumbles, locking the door and moving to shove the heavy desk and chair against it. 

Pounding begins almost immediately against the door and he jerks his head towards the window. Skye reaches for her gun and puts her back to him. "Go ahead. I'll cover you." 

While she keeps at the ready in case their attackers get through the door, he wrenches the window open and checks for any kind of ground attack. They are clear and he bends down to secure a rope to the radiator that is bolted to the ground. It is the only thing secure enough to serve as an anchor while they rappel down the side of the building. A bullet whizzes by and he whips his head around to see Skye grimly facing down two goons through a jagged hole in the doorway. 

"Time to go," he rushes at her to hoist her over his shoulder, ignoring her shriek of protest. Bullets keep flying and he trusts her to return fire while he swings his legs out the window. It is only a few seconds to check his grip (he's gone farther with more weight in his possession, but not recently, at such close range to people firing at his head) before he lets gravity pull them out and down. 

In the melee, Skye somehow scrambles his hold until she's wrapped like a koala around his back and keeps three points of contact (one arm around his chest, two legs around his waist, just like he taught her) as she raises her gun to fire up at the window, driving the attack back inside the room until they are clear. 

Ward feels her stiffen awkwardly just before they hit the ground but is too busy bracing himself for the impact to make much of it. She slides off his back and breaks into a run, following his lead as they leave their fellow Londoners in the dust. 

* * * 

After they have been moving unfollowed for almost an hour, Skye digs in her heels and lets out a heaving breath. "Stop." 

"Skye, we have to keep moving --" 

She ignores his protests and begins to pull off her jacket, grimacing when she pulls her left arm out of its sleeve. Blood is streaking down her arm and he swears ripely. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"It's just a scratch." Her response has their eyes locking as they remember a near identical moment, about a thousand years ago. "Besides, we needed to get out there quickly and I didn't want to slow us down." 

"You were _shot_ ," he tries to keep his voice steady and authoritative, though it feels like someone just ripped out his heart. 

"I know what it's like to be shot, Ward." Skye pushes at him forcefully until he is turned around and she has access to the supplies in his pack. She fishes out the mini-first aid kit and hands it over to him without protest, understanding that he wants to be the one to inspect the damage and treat the wound. "This really isn't that bad." 

"Next time, you tell me _right away_." When she opens her mouth to argue, he glares hard at her. " _Skye_." 

She rolls her eyes and tilts her arm for easier access. "Fine." 

Ward thinks they are finished with the matter as she doesn't offer more by way of conversation and narrows his concentration to making sure she doesn't need stitches and that the graze will heal without infection. 

"You know this wasn't your fault, right?" When he remains silent, she jabs at him with her free arm. " _Ward_." 

"It's my job to make sure you stay safe. I failed." 

"Hey." Skye moves until he cannot finish bandaging her arm, ignoring his exasperation to make certain she has his undivided attention. "Unless you secretly know how to make bullets _bounce_ off of us, I'd say you did exactly what you were supposed to. If anything, it's probably _my_ fault for not keeping my guard up." 

It sounds exactly like something he would say to her while they were training (something he _has_ said to her hundreds of times before) but all he can think about is how she looked in the infirmary on the Bus after Quinn had shot her. It is hard to reconcile the awful flashback with the here-and-now and he finds himself closing his eyes to try and get a grip. 

"You don't have to do this all on your own, you know." Skye puts a hand on his arm and leans into his personal space. Unlike when they were in that dingy hotel room thousands of miles ago, it is weirdly calming and has his heart rate settling down. 

"I --" 

With an awkwardness that she normally does not have, Skye puts her arms around his waist and hugs him loosely. "Thanks for getting us out of there alive, Robot." She is out of his arms before he can react in any way other than gaping at her in shock. 

Ward shakes his head as if to literally clear the disorientation from his mind and tries to figure out what the hell just happened. There was no one watching them, no show to put on. She wasn't playing a part for the sake of keeping their cover. 

"I knew you would over think it," Skye is lightly amused as she repacks their things and looks up to him in askance. "Did your brain just short circuit?" 

"Very funny," Ward turns away, scowling. He pulls her pack off the ground and shifts it over his to redistribute the weight evenly. 

"I can carry my own stuff." 

She is literally going to be the death of him; if not from the stress of almost losing her, it'll be the frustration of trying to win an argument. 

"You're _injured_." 

He thinks he might hear her giggle softly but chooses to ignore it as he continues walking. Skye will have had a route laid out for them to follow before they exited the city limits and he is anxious to keep moving and get to shelter before nightfall. 

She takes catches up with him easily enough and threads her good arm through his elbow so that he can see the phone clutched in her hand. It is showing they've got a few more miles before they reach a vineyard with what he hopes are abandoned cellars for this time of year. 

They are quiet for the next twenty minutes until Skye begins to pepper him with questions. He answers them as succinctly as possible until: 

"So what _is_ your favorite sports team, anyway? Obviously the Patriots were part of your cover, but.." 

Ward closes his eyes and prays for strength. 

Maybe Coulson _is_ punishing him after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be sure to read _i've seen diamonds cut through harder men_ and _careful where you stand_ if you haven't already, as they are part of the series and will help layer in some understanding on the motives of Ward and Skye, respectively.


	3. i've got your back -- and though it's stacked against us (i've got your hand, it's us against consensus.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can DEFINITELY expect a companion piece to this, and i've got a companion to the next part up and written -- because i've said before, bloodsport is a skye & ward story (mostly ward's pov, tbh) and it gets weird for me when other characters try to write their way in. hence, the additional parts. PLEASE ENJOY.
> 
> i have a tumblr!! i have no idea how it works, but i've got one! i'm b-isforbombshell -- come find me and say hi!

_ i've got your back _  
_ and though it's stacked against us _  
_ i've got your hand _  
_ it's us against consensus. _

* * *

 

They are walking through the Metro station when Skye suddenly jerks to a stop. Ward has to put a hand out to avoid stumbling into her and taking them both down.

She remains rooted in place, staring at a flower stand several feet away. Her face has gone ashen.

Ward glances at the unassuming stand and back to her, not certain what is going on. She looks like the wrong move will shatter her. "Hey. Public place… we should probably keep moving."

Skye nods mutely and he notes how she keeps her head ducked low so that the flowers are out of view.

What the hell?

He chalks it up to a lack of sleep and focuses on getting them onto the train unnoticed.

(If Skye tends to stick a little closer to him than is typical, neither of them mention it.)

* * *

In a sleeper car without occupants on either side:

 

Skye wakes up gasping for air.

Ward instantly reaches for his gun and aims it at the door. When it becomes apparent that they are not under attack, he takes a second to steady himself and replace the gun to its hiding place. Then he hears her breathing harshly, like she's just finished a marathon training session. "You okay?"

She nods in the darkness and then (perhaps realizing he cannot see) manages to croak out, "Just a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Her voice is flat, dismissive.

He forces himself to stay awake until he hears the sound of her breathing even out in sleep.

In the morning, the circles under her eyes are almost bruised and look painful to the touch.

(Thus marking another moment where he regrets teaching her what he knows.)

* * *

Somewhere between their sixth or seventh temporary housing, Ward decides they need to set up a permanent base. He mentions as much to Skye and she surprises him by agreeing. Some of the shock must show on his face, because she laughs and slugs him on the arm almost playfully. "I'm not _that_ argumentative."

The nonplussed look on his face has her laughter redoubling in earnest and he finds that he doesn't have it in him to care that she is laughing at his expense. (The past few weeks have been particularly troublesome and he can't remember the last time he saw her smile.) She finally settles down and regains her composure, though her eyes are still dancing with mirth.

"I've been waiting for you to find somewhere you wanted to settle." Skye pulls out her ever-present laptop and turns it to face him. "I selected a few places that would fit your criteria and some of the things we need while we're on the run."

He scans through the info, absently noting that she has become very attuned to their various (and somewhat unorthodox) requirements. After a few minutes of reading, he sits back and looks at her. "You did this?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "While you do your shadowy spy stuff during the day, I get bored. A girl can only watch so many hacked movies before it loses the appeal. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

For some reason she is downplaying her work and though he's not sure why, now is not the time to push it. "This is great." When her jaw drops open slightly in disbelief, he wonders if he should have been more forthcoming with positive reinforcement and makes a mental note to be more proactive going forward. "You pick."

Her eyes widen. "What?"

This time he is the one acting casual, as if her actions are of no real consequence. "You did all the legwork and you obviously know what we need access to."

Skye is silence as she processes the enormity of what he is asking her to do. She stares at him as if she expects him to change his mind at any moment and tell her that he is going to make the decision. He's the point guy, and the more experienced one for that matter -- it doesn't make sense that he isn't going to want a say in this.

Ward lifts his eyebrows in question. "Unless of course, you don't think you can handle it."

"Of course I can." She yanks the laptop from his grip and scowls at him. "I researched it all anyway."

He has to turn away under the guise of checking the clock across the room to hide his smile. Several more minutes pass and he hears her typing rapidly until she says, "Okay. Grab the bags."

Ward doesn't ask anything further, just cleans the room of evidence as per usual and meets her at the door with his tactical gear.

They are making their way down the hall when Skye blandly remarks, "We'll own this place in another 15 minutes."

He looks at her with some confusion as she ducks into the stairwell that heralds 'Roof Access.' When she doesn't expand on her cryptic statement, he prompts, "Skye?"

She bites her lip in a facsimile of an apology. "I may have created a networking virus designed to drive out the tenants in a manner to… keep them from coming back?"

Ward feels his jaw drop open and struggles to catch up with her as she races up the stairs. "Skye! What does that even mean?!"

"Guess we'll find out." She pushes the door open and a strong gust of wind immediately hits them. There is a mischievous grin on her face and he is starting to regret allowing her to make the decision about their living arrangements. At this rate, they'll be living in a windowless apartment with takeout cartons and wrappers for food.

"Oh ye of little faith," Skye admonishes, and he realizes he's said that last part aloud. "I'm not _that_ bad."

They station themselves with a good vantage point on the corner of the roof. Within less than two minutes, people come flooding out of the nearby buildings and complexes like a tidal wave. There are large bags being carried with them and shrieks of displeasure heard loudly echoing up the street.

Ward can only take it in quietly as Skye stands beside him with a calm satisfaction.

"Well." She packs up their things and heads for the stairwell that will bring them back inside. "There goes the neighborhood."

* * *

They don't wind up in a hovel, or a windowless room.

They do, however, end up in a large penthouse slash loft with a fairly open floor plan and lots of windows.

By the first day, Ward has installed the kind of security that would make the Pentagon weep and Skye layers on the digital security to make it basically undefeatable. They prefer to shop for food and supplies after dark to avoid contact with other people and learn the habits of the building and its occupants.

It doesn't take more than a week before he has built a gym in the lower level and Skye ignores him when he suggests they take up training again. She insists that she has to continue monitoring the building and keeping alert for any possible disturbances nearby.

Ward lets the excuse fly for now but they both know it is only a matter of time until he pushes her to start again. Right now have the illusion of safety but there are people out there who want both of them dead and he refuses to allow that to happen. Too much time without proper physical conditioning makes for a sloppy agent.

He vows to give her a few more days and tries valiantly to ignore the large amount of boxes that keep showing up at their doorstep.

(Skye had taken him at his word when he told her to pick out their lifestyle and cover story. She has taken the liberty of ordering everything from sheets to his underwear -- for god's sake -- and all the things that fill their loft. He'd be more upset if she weren't so damn _excited_ about it and finds he cannot deny her this happiness.)

(He does, however, leave her a note with his underwear preference. The novelty print boxers are really starting to cramp his style.)

* * *

The night before Skye almost dies, she has a horrifying nightmare.

Ward can hear her screaming all the way from his room at the opposite end of the loft. He wakes up to find every light blazing on, the sound of half a dozen electronics on the fritz with a gun in his hand.

He stumbles out of bed, cursing at the sheets that are tangled around his feet and quickly executes a systematic but thorough search. When it is clear that they have not been invaded, he looks for Skye. He finds her sitting in bed with her knees drawn to her chest. Before he can ask if everything is okay, she looks up at him. "Sorry."

She fiddles with something on the nightstand and the blaring electronics immediately cease. Every light but the one in her room goes out so he is able to see clearly how she slumps against the wall in exhaustion.

"You okay?"

Skye nods. "Just a nightmare. Must have somehow triggered the security."

He doesn't give a damn about the security, he is worried about _her_. She looks absolutely wrecked.

"Skye --"

"-- I'm fine." She takes a deep, calming breath and exhales slowly (exactly how he taught her, and he takes no pride in it). "Really."

Ward wants nothing more than to put his arms around her and make her feel safe enough to tell him what on earth is going on. She is shaking like a leaf and her hands are gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles are turning white. She is clearly anything _but_ fine.

He is about to argue when she puts her head on her knees, letting her hair curtain around her face and body. " _Please_."

It goes against every instinct he has to leave her there. He feels hopelessly unmoored and doesn't know how to reach her, or help her get through this.

No one gets much sleep that night.

* * *

In the end, maybe it is the lack of sleep that does it.

Skye's reaction time is lacking, her reflexes are sloppy, and it is hard enough keeping up his end of the fighting and picking up her slack to really pay attention to what is happening on her side of things.

Some idiot with a gun backhands her and she stumbles backward, losing her footing. Ward can only stare helplessly as she pinwheels her arms for traction, only to trip on the ledge and then over the side of the roof.

He hears her yell his name once. " _Ward_!"

And she is gone.

 _ **Gone**_.

White hot rage fuels his actions and he is no longer conscious of anything but decimating the people in front of him. If the Beserker Staff had been nearby, he would have gladly taken it to finish this. He loses track of time and gradually becomes aware that there is no one fighting him or firing bullets at his head, and falls to his knees in agony.

The compartmentalized Specialist in him issues orders ( _check for a body, take out any witnesses, clear video logs of the building and nearby towers_ ) while the man in him is reeling in shock.

Skye is _dead_.

His heart is in his throat and drawing each breath feels like a knife to the chest. He saw her go over the side and --

"Hey." Against all odds, there are fingers gripping the edge of the roof. He watches in shock as Skye heaves herself up and over the ledge, flopping onto the ground safely. "Don't worry, I don't need any help. I'm good."

Her dry comment seems to unfreeze the horror and shock in his limbs and he rushes over to pull her into a sitting position. "I thought you --"

"-- I know." There is the faintest twinkle in her eye as she shakily responds, "Thankfully, I had a really demanding SO who told me that there would come a day when I'd want to do one last pull up."

Ward yanks her into his arms with crushing strength and doesn't care that they don't do this anymore. He doesn't care that he no longer has the right to hold her or that this is crossing lines he swore he'd never cross (again). Judging by the way Skye makes no move to fight her way out of his embrace and the feel of her racing pulse, the feeling of relief is somewhat mutual.

"Don't _ever_ do that again."

Skye rolls her eyes. "Yeah, falling off a building was at the top of my to do list today. Oh no, wait. It was: Properly assess upper body strength."

They help each other to stand up and he forces himself to let her go. " _Skye_."

She sighs and leans into his side. "C'mon. Let's go home."

"Okay." Ward drapes his arm over her shoulders and holds her close, absently brushing a kiss to the top of her head. They are both wiped out and shaky with adrenalin, needing showers and possibly a lot of alcohol. He has never heard a better idea in his entire life.

"Maybe we should avoid rooftops for a while."

A watery chuckle escapes him at her dry remark and then they both burst into the kind of hysterical laughter that results from all true life-or-death events.

"Good idea."

* * *

For the next several days, Skye does not leave the loft.

Ward finds himself strangely reluctant to let her out of his sight (but not in a creepy stalker way -- _please god, never again_ ) and so they keep largely in each other's orbit. They don't exchange a lot of conversation, instead preferring the silence and company (he reads paperbacks, she codes and watches movies on her laptop) to empty conversation and heated discussions.

Skye does not offer any argument when he heads down to the gym for practice but refuses to join him in the room. Instead, she sits outside and stares at the wall or watches cartoons on her tablet. He keeps his workouts to a minimum and when he is finished, she follows him back upstairs and into the kitchen where he makes lunch. They eat quietly and the day passes without event until it is time for dinner.

For two people who are so used to living on the edge and running for their lives it is a serious change of pace. He knows they cannot logically stay inside forever, nor can they expect to keep up this type of schedule. Skye is starting to fidget restlessly, even if she won't give voice to her boredom and they're running out of food.

(Somehow they're both reluctant to disturb the fragile, unspoken truce and elect to ride out the calm rather than start anything that could devolve into an argument. Skye's brush with death has them both reevaluating priorities and they can't afford to be anything but a united front. Now is not the time for petty disagreements and trust issues. They need to get it together if they ever hope to stand a chance against the people after her.)

In the evening Ward likes to read the paper. Skye sits so that their legs and shoulders are touching, like she needs the reassurance from their points of contact.

By the week's end, they have both started to breathe easier. Skye doesn't have those kind of nightmares anymore and Ward can workout no longer worried about her butt going numb due to sitting outside the door. She hides all of his boxer-briefs when she does laundry and refuses to tell him where they are until he makes grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

(And this is how things go back to normal.)

* * *

In a town three hours away where Coulson has asked them to look into a possible 0-8-4:

 

They have just entered a bakery when Skye backs up and into his chest so fast it literally knocks the wind out of him.

He grabs her reflexively, bracing her shoulders in his hands and already scanning for possible threats. The bakery is quiet, other than a few patrons (none of whom can legitimately pose any kind of danger) and small children enjoying their treats. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Next he begins scanning for weapons. It is mostly what he'd expected, a quaint shop with very little by way of defense or violence. (Baking pans and tins were more effective than most people realized and could be used in a pinch when the situation called for it.) Even the tables were spaced far enough apart that it would be difficult to put between an opponent for safety measures. Honestly the only thing that could be used on the fly are probably the glass bud vases on each table, innocuously filled with various flowers.

"We have to go."

"Skye --"

"We have to go, _right now_." Her eyes are wild, on par with the slightly hysterical tone in her voice.

"If this is about --"

Skye whirls around and flees, not waiting for him. He turns and follows her, determined to figure out what has her so scared. It's like the Metro all over again. Most people are happy to see flowers but every time she sees one it's like she has seen a ghost. Furthermore, this is starting to affect the way she reacts in the field and it's almost like --

The bakery _**explodes**_.

Ward stumbles and throws himself over Skye, who has fallen to the ground. What feels like hundreds of tiny pieces of glass become embedded in his back and exposed hands and face. When the debris stops raining from the sky and people begin to scream in fear, he rolls to the side and looks at her.

"Did you know that was going to happen?"

Her face is pinched white with fear. "I hate orchids."

When it becomes clear that she will not speak further on the subject, he gets to his feet and extends a hand to pull her from the ground. The hand she places in his is shaking slightly and he's had enough.

"What the hell is going on?"

It takes some doing for Skye to steady her breathing and meet his furious gaze. "Not here. I'll explain, but we need to get out of here."

* * *

They make it back home in record time (Ward does not admit to driving like a madman and Skye is too distraught to call him out on it) and gravitate to the couch out of habit, more than anything. It seems like most of their discussions happen here and this is proving to be no exception.

He settles her in with a mug of herbal tea and patiently waits for her to start talking.

"I killed those people."

Ward scoffs. "Skye, just because you had a gut instinct that told you to get out of a building before it exploded doesn't mean you killed those people."

"You don't get it. That building exploded because of me." Her tone is flat and unshakable in its conviction.

Ward sets his jaw and folds his arms grimly. "Explain."

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. "When I get _upset_ … terrible things happen."

He struggles to make sense of what she is trying to tell him and thinks about the horrible cries he sometimes hears coming from her room at night and the unexplained non-functional electronics in the loft the next day. "You weren't kidding about the orchids, were you?"

"That's one way of putting it." She half-smiles almost ruefully, "Believe me, I know how insane it sounds."

Ward thinks of everything Raina tried to insist about Skye; he thinks about Garrett's rapid descent into insanity; he thinks of all the people they were exposed to while with Coulson's team on the Bus. Then he looks back at the girl in front of him with a face almost as familiar as his own. This young woman who came out of nowhere and made herself into a force to be reckoned with. Who came back from the brink of death itself and somehow managed to become stronger than ever.

"We're going to figure this out." He says, taking her hand and looking in her eyes.

Skye almost sags in relief. "I was kind of hoping you would say that."

"We're a team. I'm not going anywhere."

"I could hurt you," she warns, backing away almost subconsciously.

He thinks back to London and the way she held her own against the men shooting at them. About the way she shut down at the Metro station and allowed him to guide her onto the train without protest. How she was in full on panic at the bakery but managed to hold it together until they were safely outside and he could shield them from the explosion.

"I trust you."

This time he is ready for her when she launches into his arms and holds on tightly.

It is a long time before they let go.

* * *

They go to sleep, somehow.

It it almost eight the next morning when he hears her puttering around in the kitchen. For a second he can fool himself into thinking that nothing has changed, that she is just a girl in an apartment and he is just the guy who lives with her.

Ward hears something shatter and Skye cursing angrily. He takes a deep breath and heaves himself out of bed, pulling a tee shirt on en route. The conversation is faint, but he can hear her say goodbye to Coulson just before he enters the kitchen.

"I dropped a glass," Skye warns, crouched on the floor and gathering the shattered pieces gingerly. He wants to protest her actions, as she is barefoot and tends to be careless when it comes to her own safety but manages to bite down on the argument before it can start.

"Be careful," Ward only comments mildly, going to the cabinets for a mug so he can have some damn coffee and start to process what is going on. He startles back into the present moment to see a steaming cup waiting on the counter.

Skye is now standing with her back to him, washing dishes with a concentration he has only seen her give to training after her recovery.

He reaches for the coffee. "What did Coulson say?"

She turns off the faucet and leans back against the sink. "He's got his hands full right now. Didn't want to add to his plate."

Ward reads between the lines and deduces: "He doesn't know."

"I thought we'd figure it out first before we ran it by him."

That was Skye for you. Always with the half-formed plans and knee-jerk reactions. He found it comforting at least that much hadn't changed.

"Thanks," she mutters sourly. "Glad I could be consistent for you."

A few more pieces fit together, this time with the coffee aiding his thought process. The picture forming isn't one he is entirely comfortable with. "You can... read minds."

"More like impressions. Some easier than others." Skye looks up at him. "You tend to come through pretty loud and clear for me."

He winces and makes a concentrated effort to pull himself in. There are too many dark and dangerous things floating around inside of his head. He doesn't want to taint her that way.

She gasps, face turning white and it wrenches him back. "What did you just do?"

"Closed it off. Specialist thing. I don't want to hurt you, Skye."

_It hurts more when you do that._

Ward has to fight not to drop his coffee, though it does winds up splattering all over his hand when he jumps.

"Okay." He takes a deep breath and cautiously opens back up by degrees, watching her carefully.

Skye breathes more evenly until she can meet his eyes. "That's good. Thanks."

"Does it hurt?"

The smile fades from her face entirely to be replaced with a bruised sort of hope. "Only when I breathe."

And now _finally_ , he sees a hint of the girl he used to know.

* * *

He goes for a jog to clear his head. Skye doesn't tag along this time (whether she senses that he needs space and time to process this huge change in their situation or simply doesn't feel like running, he isn't sure) and it is strange without her steady commentary to keep him company.

_Just trying to respect boundaries._

Ward nearly takes a header.

"Jeez." He puts a hand up to lean against the side of a building.

_It's okay. I'm going dark for awhile._

"What? Skye, wait --" He doesn't pay attention to the people who must think he's insane (talking aloud to the voices in your head tends to give that impression) as he swears and breaks into a sprint back to the apartment.

(Whatever happens, she cannot go dark. She is not a monster. He will not allow it.)

* * *

Ward nearly breaks down the door and sees Skye at her laptop, sprawled out on the couch with a gun pointed absently in his direction. She looks up with a bit of a frown and thumbs the safety back on, setting the gun on the table.

"That was fast."

"You said," he takes a minute to regulate his breathing. She is fine. No one has harmed her. Status quo here. "You were going dark."

Skye continues to look puzzled and sets her laptop aside to give him her full attention. "I was trying to give you some privacy so you wouldn't need to pull back again."

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply in relief so strong he is almost heady from the rush. "I thought --" When she doesn't finish his thought, he opens his eyes to see her staring at him in confusion. "You're not getting any of this?"

Skye answers very slowly and clearly, so that there is no mistaking her intent. "Look, I get how invasive this is and I'm still trying to figure it out. When I say dark, it just means I'm not picking up anything else, including you. Took me a while to figure out how but it's the only way I can stay sane."

"It's like a radio frequency."

"Something like that." She swings her legs over the edge to stand up and meet him halfway. "What did you think I meant?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Ward. Tell me."

Ward doesn't want to have this conversation. Not after he's all sticky and gross from a panicked run across town and not when they've already had their world flipped on end with Skye's confession. He's embarrassed that he thought she would announce so dramatically that she was going dark, like it meant she was turning evil or something. But it seems to be the theme for the day, so he rubs a hand over his face and resigns himself to getting it over with.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you were looking at it) Skye's laptop beeped with multiple alerts. She takes in the data quickly and begins reaching for her gear. "There's activity a few miles north. Could be Raina or just some Hydra goons. But they're close."

"Meet you downstairs," he calls over his shoulder, rapidly tugging off his shirt in search of his gun.

_This isn't over._

Ward stumbles and yelps, banging his knee into the dresser. "Damn it."

* * *

She seems to sense when he needs to reload a clip into his gun and presses it into his hand before he can ask. This type of teamwork -- partnership, really -- doesn't just happen overnight. They've worked together before and know each other ( _intimately_ in many ways, he would argue) well enough to have the framework of a very advantageous working relationship.

It gives him pause, because after Garrett, he didn't think anyone would ever want to work with him again.

"Hey." Skye is waving a hand in front of his face. "There's a mess of people over there who want us dead. Where'd you go just now?"

Ward abruptly realizes that he left her to defend them in the middle of a fight and snaps back to awareness quickly. "Sorry."

It is easy to take out the rest of the group and then they are alone in the twilight.

"Do you trust me?" Ward asks suddenly, wanting desperately to know the answer.

Skye lets her steps drag to a stop as she carefully considers him. "Yes."

It is so much more than he was hoping for. (He doesn't deserve it.)

He nods and taps her arm to indicate that they should turn up ahead. It is always good for them to vary their route back, even if they have taken out their opponents. Skye is silent beside him, leaving him to his thoughts for once instead of asking her endless litany of questions or trying to drag him into a ridiculous argument.

(His job is to protect her. First and foremost.)

* * *

"Ward." Skye waits until they are both ready to retire for the evening when she calls his name to get his attention. "We protect _each other_."

He knows exactly what she is referring to and squashes the quick flare of irritation that she managed to read that from him.

"You're getting better at shielding from me," she acknowledges. "If you want, I can teach you what I know tomorrow morning."

Ward nods slowly. "We need to resume training." Off her mutinous look he adds, "You know I'm right."

Her response is a raised middle finger as she slams the door behind her.

He falls asleep with a faded grin on his face.

* * *

Days after the first group sent out to kill them had failed and a second team had been sent in their place:

 

"Do you think we'll ever get to _finish_ a conversation before we have to go through this?" Skye complains, ducking around him and shooting.

Ward has half a second to glare at her in annoyance before he is sucked back into the heat of the fight. "Do _you_ think we could pick a better time to discuss it?"

"Jeez. I was just asking," she grumbles, shoving fresh ammo in his guns. He palms a small semi-automatic into her hand and they reposition as their opponents fire aimlessly around them.

Skye picks off their attackers until she is standing with her back against him. Despite the height difference, she somehow manages to cover him and sights out the next wave of fighters. He feels her shift restlessly and is about to turn around when she suddenly exclaims, " _Down_ , now!"

He instantly complies and watches as bullets meant for his heart fly _just_ over their heads. She doesn't react for a few moments and he wants to ask if she is okay. Skye shakes her head and stares at something beyond the horizon that he cannot see.

"Give me your rifle."

They have trained in most weapons and Skye is more than adequately competent with just about all of them, but she hasn't quite yet mastered this one. Something to do with the recoil and being unable to hold the course steady.

(There's a metaphor there he doesn't want to touch with a ten foot pole.)

She has a second to roll her eyes and glare at him half heartedly. "Thanks, Robot."

Ward reluctantly hands over the rifle and tamps down hard on the burst of joy he felt when she'd called him Robot. Judging from the way her mouth quirks up briefly, it probably wasn't fast enough, but he's unwilling to risk her getting hurt by shutting off completely.

Skye takes a moment to settle herself and get used to the feel of the weapon in her hands. She sights past a building in the distance and slowly increases pressure on the trigger, firing once -- then she pivots sharply, letting a spray of bullets fly in the opposite direction. Answering thuds of fallen bodies (sounded like three but could have been four) echo back and she pauses to ensure there is no return fire.

Ward had automatically placed himself to guard her back but her quick 180 found him knocked to the ground. "A little warning next time?" He grumbles, getting back to his feet.

"Weren't you the one who told me to be prepared for anything?" Skye tosses the rifle back to him, slinging her pack over one shoulder. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Thanks." He is not used to her being the one saving their lives in dangerous situations and it grates on him (just a bit) that she's stepped into that role when he wasn't paying attention.

"Relax," she mutters, swaying ever so slightly on her feet. "You're still alpha dog."

The lack of color in her face is making him nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Just a little bit…" Skye blindly reaches for something to lean on and he ignores her protests, automatically pulling her close. "Woozy."

That is all the warning he gets before she passes out cold. Thankfully their position allows him to easily swing her up into his arms and they are not far from home. He sighs heavily and adds 'recovery time' to the list of things they need to discuss regarding Skye's abilities.

(These are the days that convince him that God exists and that he has a sense of humor. Despite the various tasks they complete during their time away from the team, it seems like they can't ever completely escape the roles of Supervising Officer and Trainee. If there wasn't so much bad history between the past few months, he'd be tempted to laugh right now.)

Skye snores once in her sleep and unconsciously leans into him. He shifts her closer and continues to watch the perimeter.

At least it will be a quiet walk home.

* * *


	4. i am all yours, i am unmanned (i'm on all fours, willingly damned).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this... took a turn.

_ if i fall short  _  
_ if i break rank _  
_ it's a bloodsport, but i understand  _  
_ i am all yours, i am unmanned _  
_ i'm on all fours, willingly damned _

* * * 

Boxes begin to arrive at an alarming rate. 

They are heavy and surprisingly full of books. One morning he pulls _The Art of War_ from a particularly battered looking box and cannot stifle his surprise. Skye practically runs through the kitchen to snatch it from his hand and disappears back into her room. 

Ward grabs his coffee and drinks steadily. After he hears the music start up, he sits on the arm of the sofa. "What the _hell_." 

* * * 

It seems like whenever Ward enters the living room, he finds Skye cross-legged on the couch, pouring over large hardcovers and scribbling into an unlined notebook. He hasn't seen this type of discipline from her since her run in with Quinn (the first time) and remembers how she would doggedly persist in asking him to train. 

"Don't be mad that I'm not including you on this," she underlines another section in her book and writes in the margins. 

He wishes he could be surprised that she senses what he's feeling, but honestly, it's kind of a relief not to have to talk about what's on his mind. It certainly takes the pressure off needing to have a conversation about every little thing. 

"I'm doing it for you." 

Startled, his eyes meet hers. "What are you talking about?" He's never wanted her to become a bookworm. A smile curls easily on her face and he knows she picked up his thoughts again. 

"I promised I'd teach you how to shield your thoughts." She lifts her eyebrows meaningfully. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

"I'm just going to, ah --" he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, "head to the gym. Let me know when you get hungry later." 

Ward tells himself sternly that he is definitely _not_ running from her and the fact that she can read him like a book. He needs to keep in top form. It's part of who he is. It has absolutely nothing to do with the wave of emotions that flood at the mere thought of Skye putting herself out in such a manner on his behalf. 

(No one has ever done anything like this for him before.) 

Nothing at all. 

* * * 

A few days later:  
  
  


He ties a blindfold around her eyes. 

"Kinky." 

Ward stops dead in his tracks to glare darkly at her, knowing she will clearly be able to sense his irritation. Sure enough, a wide smile breaks across her face and seems to brighten the room. 

He raises the blinds and continues to open the windows, turning on the music on his way. It is easy enough to flip the lights on full, which he does with the tablet she seems to carry around everywhere ("-- Hey, that's mine!" "Tough. We've talked about bringing your work with you to training.") and queues up a video. 

Skye winces and fingers through the loose strands of hair uneasily. "Kind of loud in here." 

Ward nods, and then realizes she can't see him. "That's the point." He can read her frown behind the blindfold (could probably read it twenty feet away) and leans against the far wall with his arms folded. "When we're in a fight, you react and most of the time it works out okay -- we're careful not to be separated. But that won't last. I need you to be able to find me in the midst of chaos and not put a bullet through my head." 

Despite the severity of the situation, Skye manages to retain her sense of humor. “Can we at least change the vid to a makeup tutorial? I've had enough karaoke to last a lifetime." 

" _Skye_." He says only her name, but it is a tone that harkens back to long days of instruction and sore muscles. 

Skye grumbles something about not being Houdini, but breathes deeply to center herself. He doesn't have her abilities, but he can pinpoint the second she sinks into the exercise -- because the sensory overload he has orchestrated seems to fade into the background. 

There is something that feels like a warm tickle behind his ear and he instinctively jumps, barely stifling his yelp of surprise. 

_Found you._

"Could you do it with bullets flying over our heads and people wanting to kill us?" 

She sighs and drags the blindfold down to look him in the eyes. "Yes." 

Ward thinks about how it has been eerily quiet and they haven’t encountered much by way of Hydra interference lately. It's unlike them to go this long without any sort of a threat. In a sick sort of way, they're almost overdue for some kind of action. 

"Ward?" Skye has her eyebrows raised, evidently having picked up on his distress. 

Instinctively he locks down his concerns and folds his arms resolutely. " _Again_." 

This is a scene they know very well, and he won't let up on her until he is satisfied with her results. She knows from experience that it is best to simply tough it out until they're finished and only sighs quietly before pulling the blindfold back up. 

She gets no more than fifteen seconds in before the alarms go off. 

Before he can even ask if she's manipulating it, Skye shakes her head solemnly and heads for the door. That she is not making a joke out of it means he isn't as good as concealing his worry as he'd thought. 

Minutes later, they're in the car and she's typing on her field tablet when she mutters, "You just _had_ to jinx us, didn’t you?" 

The road in front of them basically explodes with gunfire and it is only Ward's death grip on the wheel that keeps them from driving straight into it. Skye opens the door and tumbles out as naturally as she can, rolling with the momentum as he steers for the nearest flat surface. 

He only just manages to jump from the vehicle before it erupts into a fiery wreck. When he sees Skye across the way, she is glaring at him. 

_That was our third car this month._

"It's not my fault!" Ward protests forcefully, already drawing his rifle up to return fire. He gradually becomes aware of Skye fighting her way to his side, and lays cover for her to close in on the last several feet. 

She reaches in his pack and throws something sharp in the opposite direction. A strangled scream echoes back and Ward stares at her with betrayal in his eyes. "That was my favorite knife." 

"Sorry," Skye fails miserably at hiding her grin. "Guess it'll have to be your second favorite knife now." 

He grumbles under his breath and knows that is her petty way of paying him back for his comments earlier. As far as the fight goes, they are pretty evenly matched and not far outnumbered, so Ward expects this to be finished in time for them to pick something up on the way home. 

Taking a deep breath, he decides to make a peace offering. Skye takes advantage of the moment to load fresh ammo as he suggests, "You want Chinese for dinner?" 

"I have damn well earned fried chicken, and you know it." She nearly growls at the sight of increased ammunition that has suddenly fallen upon them. They both know this is more of a last-ditch response than anything — they have a small artillery still in their packs and Hydra has been all too-predictable by loading up their attack on the back end before they run out of options. 

"Point taken." He winces in agreement. Gunfire comes darting past his head and Ward turns sharply to determine where the shooter is coming from. 

" _No_!" Skye is suddenly _bleeding_ panic and throws up her hand in his direction. 

A bullet stops inches from his heart, suspended in motion. His jaw drops open. "Skye?" 

There is anger threaded with steely determination in her features as she turns around and clenches her fists. " _Enough_!" He can feel the shockwave of energy echo from where she is standing and wonders how instinctively she is reacting. 

That there is no more return fire or sign of battle is extremely telling and he doesn't think they can chalk it up to coincidence. 

Ward approaches her warily and does not take his eyes off the bullet still hanging in midair. "You still with me?" 

"I'm really getting _tired_ of this." Her entire body seems to sag in defeat. 

"Hey." He reaches for her hand and forces her fingers open. Somewhere off in the distance, a car alarm goes off shrieking loudly in the night and echoing into the now-desolate street. "Let's get out of here." 

Skye takes a deep breath. He hears the _plink_ of the bullet meant for his heart as it clatters to the ground. She takes another breath and exhales slowly, but does not remove her hand. "Okay." 

* * * 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

" _You_ do?" Skye rolls her eyes. "You never want to talk about your feelings. That's why you love that I can basically read your mind." 

It is testimony to both of them that Ward is able to keep his thoughts on the matter neatly hidden and compartmentalized. Skye has taught him well and he had the training before her as groundwork. He also has the foreknowledge to know that what happened earlier has her terrified and lashing out wildly. 

So he is proud that his voice is steady when he answers, "We don't have to." 

He puts his pack away and focuses on cleaning their guns. For the next few moments, silence reigns in the penthouse. 

"I'm sorry." Skye has pulled her sleeves over her thumbs. It is a throwback to their early days on the Bus, when she felt out of place or lost among the team. 

He glances up in time to see the miserable expression on her face. He sighs quietly and leans back to make room for her. She immediately drops to the couch and fits herself against his side. 

Ward feels truly calm for the first time all day. "Thanks for saving my life." 

Skye nods wordlessly, preferring to stare at her hands rather than add to the conversation. 

He clears his throat. "I didn't know you could do that. With the bullet." 

"Neither did I." 

He tangles his fingers in her hair and combs through the knots that have accumulated from the day's events. "Scared?" 

She tips her head down, ignoring the tears that fall. "Not as scared as I was of losing you." 

Ward remembers that villa, the damp coldness of the wine cellar, the raw agony and panic in Coulson's voice when he'd discovered her; he remembers feeling helpless and angry and terrified-- 

A sharp gasp escapes Skye as his emotions assail her already battered senses. "Sorry," he dampens the feelings (but not completely, he won't go _dark_ ) until the vice grip she's got on his arm loosens. 

They are silent while the sun goes down and shadows begin to paint the walls. Time passes and he doesn't bother hiding his thoughts from her. She's right -- it _is_ easier this way, not having to put everything into words. 

But there are certain things that need to be said aloud to carry weight and meaning. At last he suggests: "Maybe we could be a little more careful with each other?" 

She nods and closes her eyes in relief. Ward reaches for the blanket to drape it over them and does the same, content in the knowledge that they are safe for the night. 

* * * 

When he stumbles out of bed the next day, Skye is already up and judging from the sounds coming from the kitchen, has been for several hours. He turns the corner to find biscuits and various jams laid out on the counter. 

"You're been busy." 

"I had a craving." Skye shrugs noncommittally and pushes the coffee over to him. "Coulson sent an encrypted file this morning. He thinks they've tracked Raina down and it's not too far from here." 

She is watching him anxiously for any kind of reaction and he forces himself to remain calm. He longs for the days when she would present life-altering news _after_ he'd finished his coffee and had breakfast. 

Ward sets his mug down. "We need to discuss this before agreeing to anything." 

She abandons the task of putting away clean dishes so that she can focus on scrubbing the grease from the baking sheets. "It sounds like a pretty secure facility, and we will probably have to go at night —" 

"Skye." 

"So I thought we could go over specs and come up with some sort of plan —" 

"— _Skye_." 

She stops abruptly and the pan slips from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Her face is drained of color and she can't stop her body from shaking. 

He gets up and reaches for her, quietly absorbing her fear and remains silent until he can feel the tremors cease. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." 

"Coulson's the Director of Shield. I'm pretty sure we have to follow orders," She retorts, slipping out of his arms. 

Ward doesn't move to stop her other than putting a hand on her shoulder. "If you don't want to do this, we won't. We make this decision _as a team_ and we don't owe anyone an explanation." 

"If we don't try to stop her now, won't she just come back again?" 

He nods in consideration. "It's possible." 

Sadness echoes from her gaze as she demands, "Haven't we been running long enough?" 

"Not if you're not ready." He answers simply. 

Skye doesn't fight this time when he pulls her back into his arms and lets her forehead drop to his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing as she pulls herself together. "Let's go get her." 

"Okay. I'll reach out to Coulson, see what else he knows." 

She nods, and disappears into her room. Ward pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily. "This is a mistake." 

* * * 

They go in at night. 

The facility is not too heavily guarded when the shift changes at 2AM and they are good enough to hide what little traces can be left behind. Ward goes in first and leaves Skye to disable the major security that can be remotely accessed while he lays a trail for her to head for the mainframe. He has a few more minutes before she should be walking through the front doors and thinks about their lesson days ago.  
  
  
  


(Skye points to the couch and raises an eyebrow. "This time, we do it my way." 

It is a tough thing, but he is able to rein in his frustration and swallow down the knee-jerk retort in his throat. "Fine." 

A smile curls on her lips and he rolls his eyes. "What's so funny?" 

"You're getting the hang of it." 

There is a beat of silence. 

Ward closes his eyes in obvious annoyance and does not bother to hide his sigh of resignation. This is almost as bad as when she would school him in Battleship. 

"Not as much fun," Skye acknowledges, plopping down next to him. "But yes. Kind of like that. Now, about what I learned from my friend Sun Tzu.")  
  
  
  


In what seems like no time at all, the building alarms have gone off and he finds her standing ready by the stairwell door, exactly as they had planned. "Did you run into any trouble on the way here?" 

"Nothing I couldn't handle." There is a faint hitch in her voice. 

He pauses on the stairs to look back at her and narrows his eyes. "Where's the body?" 

She throws her hands up in the air. "I hid it exactly like you said, okay? Can we please keep going?" 

Ward shakes his head and makes a mental note to go over stash and retrieval techniques tomorrow. 

"I _heard_ that," Skye mutters. 

* * * 

They don't realize it's a trap until it is too late. 

Most of their ammo has been spent on taking out the guards on their way up and they have been too busy defending each other for him to come up with a new plan. Eventually they are forced to the top of the stairwell with only a door for roof access as an exit and Ward has about half a second to acknowledge the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach before Skye is shoving the door open. 

"Hello, Skye. Ward, how lovely to see you again." 

No more than ten feet away, Raina stands with wide, delighted eyes and a dreamy smile on her face. Baskets of flowers surround her and the stench of them invades their sense mercilessly. 

Ward feels sick. This wasn't part of the plan. They need to get out of here. Skye is _definitely_ not ready for this. 

A strangled gasp comes from his right — 

Skye is sheet white from the effort of holding back her emotions. He clamps a hand around her waist roughly, effectively switching her focus and taking on the brunt of her abilities. 

It's like being electrocuted; staggering hot pain up and down his spine, into his extremities and sizzling through his veins. 

She somehow has the wherewithal to recognize him and pull back, dampening the pain instantly and sending waves of cool relief in its place. By a miracle, he is able to help her walk to the far end of the roof and she takes several deep breaths to calm herself down. 

"I'm sorry." 

Ward lifts his head to look her in the eye directly and takes painstaking care to keep his intentions shrouded. "Me too." Then he pinches the nerve at the back of her neck and she falls unconscious, into his arms. He takes a deep breath and shifts until he can reach the rappelling hook in his pack, taking a glance over the edge to estimate how much slack he will need. 

(This kind of exit maneuver is starting to become a habit.) 

It is a long way down. 

He doesn't look back to see if Raina has followed them. He doesn't need to. She got exactly what she wanted from Skye and he wasn't able to prevent it. 

Raina is smart, and desperate, and learning exactly how much Skye can handle before tiring out. Next time they will probably just lay siege until she falls apart in front of them. 

Getting home is a blur and he doesn't feel the weight of the girl in his arms or the superficial cuts on his face and hands. He just feels regret. Regret, and a deep self loathing for the fact that he couldn't keep her safe after all. 

* * * 

That night, they both have nightmares. 

* * * 

Skye surfaces first but it still feels like something is clawing at her chest and out for blood. It takes a few seconds to close her eyes and confirm her suspicious — the feeling is coming from Ward. She throws off the blankets and takes a second to steady herself. After today she is feeling a little too raw to go in blindly. 

When Skye enters the room, she can see inky black rage and pain swirling over his head. It howls at her restlessly and makes her stomach churn in fear. She bears down and grits her teeth. Two people this volatile shouldn't mix but she'll be damned if she is going to break now. He needs this -- and she needs to be the one that helps him through it. 

Today was a disaster, and Raina was the last person either of them were really equipped to deal with but this is different; she knows all about Ward's deep, dark secrets and the things he suffered at Garrett's hands and it won't swallow her up. He isn't a monster any more than she is. There is no way is she going to let some new-age freak show in a flowered dress undo every bit of progress they have made over the past few months. She can break through this and get to him and remind him exactly why they are a team. 

"All right, you bastard. Let's _play_ ," She mutters grimly at the vicious cloud above the bed, hardly aware of a warm glow that begins to infuse her palms. She reaches for his hands and laces their fingers together. 

The last thing she hears is Ward yelling, " _No_!" and then everything goes black. 

* * * 

Ward wakes up and cannot move. 

He tenses in anticipation of a fight and then a familiar scent hits him. _Skye_. He breathes deeply and notes that it does not dislodge Skye from where she lays sprawled across his chest. His fingers twitch restlessly from where they are interlocked with hers and he wonders when and how she got into his bed in the first place. 

"Stop thinking so loud," Skye mumbles, sliding off his chest to nestle into his arm. "I can't sleep when you do that and you owe me a good night's rest." 

He feels his eyebrows rocket upward and mentally catalogues their current situation. A hand comes up and drags down his face until he is forced to close his eyes. She laughs softly. "Not like that." 

It's so relaxing that Ward has just about drifted off again when the pieces click into place and he practically jumps out of bed. It is a testimony to Skye's training that she manages to keep from falling to the ground as a result. 

"You came in here because of the nightmare," he accuses, watching as the sleep fades from her body and she tenses slightly, as if in preparation for a fight. 

"Yes." 

It's like being in that hotel room again where she's all but telling him that she read his file and that she _knows_ just how dark his life became. 

"Hey," she puts a hand on her arm and a soft calm begins to steal over him, and he glares, knowing she is projecting the emotion his way. "Look, I'm really not capable of going a few rounds with you right now and I honestly _didn't_ get that much sleep last night." 

He instantly feels guilty and wishes she'd never been dragged into this mess; Garrett, Raina, murder, bullets — 

"I know we aren't big on talking," Skye bites her lip and steels herself to look him in the eye, "But I think we need to talk about this. We used to talk about everything else. _Before _."__

And that is really the crux of the matter. 

This isn't about his defection to Hydra any more than it is about her ability to essentially read his mind. The bottom line here is that they need to communicate. For two people who had gotten so good at doing just that, they haven't really been able to have a straight conversation (save for Skye's confession, but even that was interrupted) in what seems like forever. Honestly, it is amazing that they've gotten this far. 

"I have a reoccurring nightmare about Garrett killing you and Coulson." She blurts out, sitting down on the bed like all the fight has gone out of her. "He's killing you both and he's making me watch and there's nothing I can do to stop it." 

"That's never going to happen," He automatically reassures her, torn between wanting to comfort her or strangle her for barreling her way into a discussion he _really_ doesn't want to have. 

"I also dream about the people who didn't make it. From the bakery." Tears are escaping down her face and she's curled in on herself. "I tracked down the report to see how many died —" 

"— Skye, don't. You don't want to go down that road." 

"But I _do_. I want to understand what's ripping you up so much inside that it is practically eating you alive at night. No one should have to go through that alone." 

Once again, he finds himself bowled over by her empathy and unshakable strength in the face of what seems like an impossible situation. It is a while before he can summon up the words to respond. 

"That's different. What I did… I was a horrible person." 

"You're _not_." 

He realizes that there is no way to get through to her unless he speaks her language — and in this case, Greatest Fears Ever seems to be one chosen. "I'm terrified I'll drag you down with me." 

"You don't get it. You _ground_ me. No one ever has before." 

The look in her eyes is more than empathy, now. It is filled with something deep that he is too afraid to name. ( _A hand on his cheek and the words, "You're a good man," and it feels like his heart is breaking all over again._ ) 

He knows what she wants and has to convince her just how bad of an idea this is. "No. I can't be that — people will say I'm a monster and they'd be right." 

"Fine, that makes two of us. We can be monsters together." 

  
(Raina's parting remarks to him: _maybe you can be monsters together._ )  


" _No_." His anger, fierce and visceral, is laced with a heavy dose of fear and hits her like a speeding train. 

Skye goes pale with the effort of not lashing out. Outside, dishes in the kitchen shatter to the ground -- lightbulbs explode from the pressure and scatter glass everywhere. Just when it seems like it has become too much for her to handle and he can't shut down the hurricane of emotion that has been dredged up, something shifts. 

From within the darkness, Skye finds his hand without hesitation and a small glow emits from their joined hands. 

He looks down at their hands and realizes that she is responsible for making the nightmare fade away last night. " _How_ are you doing this?" 

"You've seen me at my worst," she simply says by way of an answer. "How could I _not_?" 

"Skye." 

She firms her jaw in determination. " _Ward_. I'm with you until the end of the line -- or over the side of a building -- and then I'm with you until I crawl back over the ledge." 

A thousand questions spring to his mind — the first of which being, how _exactly_ did she survive that day? — but none feel like the appropriate response. 

Here is this young woman who he had a hand in training to become the incredible person she is today and they have run the gamut of emotions. He wants to understand her, to know where she keeps finding strength from and how she can switch between anger and sympathy, happiness and grief. He wants what they could have had if Garrett had never existed and she had never been shot. And in her own way, she is offering that to him, despite the horrible odds stacked against them and the hell that they have been through. 

"I think you need to lay off the Bucky Barnes documentaries," he finally says, watching as a huge grin steals across her face. Skye rushes at him and they topple back onto the bed and he almost can't breathe because they are laughing so hard. 

She turns her head on the pillow to look at him and she is _brilliant_. He knows he is responsible for putting that sparkle back into her eyes. 

"C'mere," Skye murmurs, placing a hand on his cheek and guiding him close. 

Ward hesitates briefly against just before their lips meet, but for once he does not argue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with the romance, guys. 
> 
> I was perfectly fine just letting them be a solid partnership until the end of the story. And THEN. then, I was reading all these comments on tumblr about how brett and chloe ship skye/ward and how they don't think he's evil and -- the whole story had to change. Because I needed to address Ward's issues before it could go any further. Skye's abilities help out tremendously in this regard, because she can literally tell when he is and isn't being truthful -- but at the end of the day, Ward is right too: there are certain things that carry more weight when they're said aloud. 
> 
> You haven't see the last of Raina, either. That was more of a teaser than anything else. If you have any questions or thoughts about this update, please come find me on tumbler! i'm b-isforbombshell and i love it when you guys pick my brain about fandomy things. :)


	5. and i will burn the people that hurt you the worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, everyone. The conclusion. Thank you for making it this far and continuing with me in this section of the universe. 
> 
> A quick note that you'll probably want to read _i guess every superhero has his theme music_ because it is directly referenced in the beginning of the chapter. There is also a quote from _late night tales_ which has been posted on my tumblr (b-isforbombshell) as it's just a little ficlet, but you don't need that as much.
> 
> More notes at the end, because this sucker is 7500+ words long and I've been working on it FOREVER.

_and i will burn_  
_the people who hurt you the worst _  
_and i will not learn_  
_cos i am too young and _  
_too dumb to consider the terms_  
_of breaking the law and _  
_i'll curse the day that they return_  
_with a smile on my face as their heads hit the floor_  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
It takes almost a full week for them to recover from the visit from Coulson and May. Skye had been restless for days afterwards, refusing to eat much of anything and having difficulty sleeping. When he had finally confronted her, she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and a bitter anger that nipped at his consciousness.  
  
"I walked away from my family once, and that was on me. This time we _told_ them to leave. That makes it harder."  
  
All of the fight comes whooshing out of him and he cautiously puts an arm around her shoulders. As if releasing a gate from a dam, Skye bursts into tears and curls a hand into the collar of his shirt. She presses the other against her mouth as if trying to hold back the keening, painful noises that are escaping.  
  
This is what he had been waiting for, as it had been a long time coming. Ward sighs and draws her up into his arms, settling them on the couch. Her emotions are biting into him like miniature insect stings, constant and many in number. He doesn't close off, even though it would be easier (less painful) to do so, and remains open to the attack. It gradually passes as she seems to sink further into her grief.  
  
Skye cries herself to sleep and he does not once tear his eyes away, guarding her even in slumber. He has failed her once. He will not fail her now.  
  
This, too, defines them.  
  
* * *  
  
Skye doesn't talk about it.  
  
Instead she begins spending long periods of time in the gym. When before, Ward had to track her down or force her to take their sparring sessions seriously, she is now the one dragging him to the mat, ignoring his calls for mealtimes, and focusing solely on her conditioning.  
  
The intensity with which she is focused is laser sharp and inescapable; whatever it is she wants to accomplish, she is well on her way to getting it done.  
  
"Skye, you need to take a break."  
  
She pushes aside the damp hair that keeps falling into her eyes. "She's not getting anything from me."  
  
"Because you'll have killed yourself long before you meet up with her again." He bites out impatiently, reaching for her hands and undoing the wraps against her protests. "You have to eat. Let's go."  
  
He can see the moment she bites back the automatic protest because the burn in her eyes flares brightly and he thinks that he might have to physically throw her over his shoulder to make his point. He doesn't back down from her dark look and might have stayed locked in that position for several minutes — except her stomach growls loudly, shattering the moment.  
  
"I guess I should probably eat something."  
  
"Tell me something I don't know," Ward grumbles, all but dragging her upstairs.  
  
* * *  
  
They don't usually have anything heavy to drink with their meals but it has been a while since they've gone out for groceries and so the bottle of wine suits the food out of necessity more than anything else.  
  
He can see how transparently she resents taking the time to stop and eat. That there is some kind of invisible timer in her head that is keeping track until she can head back to the gym. The conversation between them is light and superficial and Ward is careful to keep his thoughts shielded as he privately thinks it is just a matter of time before Skye, who has been unconsciously radiating tension throughout the duration of the meal, figuratively bursts from the pressure.  
  
At last, Skye puts down her wineglass and all but shimmers with impatience. "You know, if we run like this and we'll always be running. We can _never_ go home."  
  
Ward had realized as much months ago, when he made the decision to run with her. Skye, who has gotten much more perceptive over the past few weeks, easily reads his conclusion and closes her eyes. "Oh my god. You _knew_ this would happen!" Her eyes are bright with unshed tears as she shoves away from the table, guilt and regret coming from her in waves. "You should have said _no_."  
  
He immediately lunges to follow her and finds himself literally tied down to the table. "What the hell?"  
  
When had she done that?  
  
_I'm sorry._  
  
"Skye!" It will take no more than two minutes for him to free himself from the ropes (less than that if he doesn't care about breaking the furniture) but something tells him that he doesn't have more than a few seconds before he loses her.  
  
By the time he's cleared the restraints and kicked down her bedroom door, it's too late. The windows in her room are open. She is gone.  
  
Ward roars in frustration and throws the closest thing he can find (a set of external speakers) against the wall.  
  
This is what he had been afraid of.  
  
Skye had finally gone dark.  
  
* * *  
  
That night, he does not sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
The door opens almost silently and Skye tiptoes inside, closing it behind her with care.  
  
He waits until she has dropped her bag on the ground before speaking. "So. You're alive."  
  
Skye curses and jumps in shock. "Jesus, Ward!"  
  
"Next time you plan on running away from your problems, kindly remember that there are people who actually give a damn about your safety."  
  
The initial anger at his imperious reprimand has taken a backseat when she sees how absolutely furious he is.

( _Deep burgundy rage pulses around him and takes up a fairly large amount of space in the roomy penthouse. It coats his actions like a thick magma and is just barely being kept in check by the midnight blue that is his self-control._ )  
  
"You don't do that again." This time, Skye surges forward in protest and Ward silences her with a dark glare. " _No_."  
  
She sits back down with poorly masked defiance, frustrated tears beginning to fall from her eyes.  
  
"We are in this _together_. You want to get angry? Fine. I'm right beside you, throwing the next punch. You're upset because we literally kicked Coulson and May out of here? I _get_ it. They were your family and we told them to leave. It sucks." Ward pauses to thrust a box of tissues in her face, impatience barely leashed while she blows her nose loudly.  
  
"But you don't leave like that. You _do not_ walk away. And you never go dark on me. **_Ever_**."  
  
Skye looks mutinously angry but also has the benefit of seeing the evergreen worry snaking through his words and has to take a deep breath so she can nod in agreement.  
  
Ward fixes her with an intense glare and shakes his head. "I'm going to bed."  
  
The quiet snick of his bedroom door closing sounds like a cannon going off in her head as she falls onto the couch in exhaustion.  
  
(This was the kind of stuff they never warned you about in the Shield training manuals.)  
  
* * *  
  
When she wakes up there is a box with a brand new set of speakers on the coffee table. She frowns at it in confusion and sniffs to air to confirm that she is, in fact, smelling tomato sauce. She finds Ward in the kitchen stirring a wide pot on the range while he supervises a cooling batch of pasta where it drains in a colander in the sink.  
  
Skye clears her throat. "Anything I can do to help?"  
  
"That depends. Are you going to disappear again —"  
  
"— Oh, come on." She rolls her eyes sharply and glares at him.  
  
"— When it's time to clean up later?"  
  
The permanent frown lines that have bracketed his mouth since yesterday are finally appearing to soften and she inwardly breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay. I deserved that."  
  
Ward turns back around to continue cooking. "Get the bread out of the oven, please."  
  
With the pasta finished and sauce complete, they're sitting down in about five minutes and eating in a silence that is almost painful. Skye has already complimented him on the meal but this is more than she can handle.  
  
"I'm _sorry_ , okay?"  
  
Ward raises an eyebrow and regards her blandly. "Are you asking me or telling me?"  
  
"God. You weren't even this much of a hardass when we were training. Why are you all over me right now?"  
  
He pushes back from the table in annoyance. "If I have to tell you, we're doing something wrong."  
  
"What, Ward? _What_? Just tell me what it is so I can apologize and we can be _done_ with this already!"  
  
"I'm not shielding, Skye!" He slams a hand down on the counter. "You're so wrapped up in your head right now that you haven't even _thought_ of looking for answers."  
  
The hurt that rips through her at his accusation is deafening, like a tidal wave consuming everything in its path. She fully opens up the connection with Ward at last and nearly staggers under the weight of his emotions.  
  
_fear worry anger frustration is she okay is she hurt can she survive this will they survive this has she left for good is she ever coming back what did he do wrong why isn't she sticking around to make this right what is he going to tell coulson how could he have failed again why does he always fail with her when all he wants to do is protect her please god let her be okay she needs to be okay this is not the worst thing that will happen and she needs to be strong enough to face whatever comes next and_  
  
With a gasp, Skye lurches back into the present and grips Ward's forearm with enough strength to bruise. "You didn't tell me," she whispers brokenly, nearly flooding him with her regret.  
  
He exhales steadily. "Skye, we're a team. Please don't shut me out."  
  
She nods hurriedly, gulping back the emotions that are clawing at her throat. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Me too." Ward pulls her into his arms and holds on tight. It is quiet, with only the occasional sniffle from her as they adjust to the quicksilver emotions between them. Ward finally breaks the silence with an ever-so-pained, "I owe you a set of speakers."  
  
Skye draws back to look at him. "Is that why those are in the living room? What the hell happened?"  
  
He winces. "I might have thrown them against the wall. Earlier."  
  
Her eyebrows rocket upwards. "O…kay."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
* * *  
  
Sometime after dinner has been cleaned up (she has done the lion's share of the cleaning, _thankyouverymuch_ ) and they are resting in the living room:  
  
  
Despite the fact that it makes her stomach curl with anxiety, there's not exactly any getting around it. She sighs loudly and finally asks, "I have to face her, don't I?"  
  
"No. We can run. That was the original plan, after all."  
  
Skye casts him a sideways look. "That plan _sucked_."  
  
"We _did_ make it up as we went along." Ward reminds her, closing his eyes in acknowledgement. "It could use… some tweaking."  
  
She sighs heavily and lays sprawled across the couch, an arm flung over her eyes. "I'm tired of running."  
  
The penthouse is so quiet that she risks a glance at Ward to make certain he hasn't left the room without telling her. He is watching her with an intensity that would be worrisome if it had been coming from anyone else. She reaches her hand to him and wiggles her fingers invitingly.  
  
Ward allows her to thread their fingers together. "You know what we have to do, then." She nods and closes her eyes. "Okay." He says, beginning to plan what the next few weeks will entail. "Until the end of the line."  
  
A snicker escapes her. "You're such a dork."  
  
"You're the one who watches all those those commentaries! How is this about me?!"  
  
"I'll remember this when we run into Captain America. How you thought you were _bigger_ than his friendship with Bucky."  
  
"— What, Skye — I never said that —"  
  
"Mmm hmm." She gets up from the sofa and grabs the box from the table. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to repair a set of speakers."  
  
* * *  
  
They spend about three to four hours every day in the gym.  
  
Ward is hardly a stranger to intensive training but even he is sore at the end of the day. Skye barely surfaces long enough from her gritty determination long enough to eat and sleep and then she turns to other methods of conditioning. He often finds her in one of the penthouse spare rooms, eyes closed deep in meditation. These are such acutely private moments that he has to silently back out of the room so as not to intrude.  
  
Ever so often she will leave something behind (a small note reminding him to pick up groceries, a fresh pair of black boxer-briefs, a set of unmatched socks whose mates have gone AWOL) to keep herself grounded in their life and reassure him that she is not shutting him out. These are insignificant gestures, things that would mean nothing to other people, but Ward knows how much it takes for her to remember it in the midst of all her training — and is content.  
  
They will get through this. They _have_ to get through this.  
  
* * *  
  
Skye can feel Ward's concern for her all the time.  
  
It is something of a constant; it shifts like the tides — some moments are stronger than others (and wake her out of a dead sleep) while there are other times it buffets her gently throughout the day. Before, it would have been something that made her feel guilty that she had dragged him into this mess.  
  
(In those moments, it's almost like Ward is the one who can sense what she's feeling — he'll raise a patient eyebrow at her and shake his head. "Don't, Skye." And she looks at him and wonders how on earth she thought _leaving_ was the answer.)  
  
She has learned to take that concern and wrap it around her until it coats her determination and strengthens her resolve like a fine silk cloak. It does not hinder her movement but instead propels her forward, especially when she thinks she cannot do anymore. It is always at the ready for her to tap into when she needs it.  
  
The connection has been growing stronger between them and it isn't just in battle that they are learning to sense what the other person needs. It has developed so naturally and rapidly that it isn't a matter worth discussing. When she is hungry and doesn't realize it has been hours since her last break, Ward will show up with food. When he is stuck on the more strategic parts of the plan, she will offer fresh intel from chatter among the more silent intelligence communities. (Raina and her crew have not been making friends in their journey across the globe.)  
  
And because it is fluid and easy, she stops worrying about what will happen next. She knows it will be bad and that it will take everything she has to stand against Raina. She also knows Ward will not let her become a total monster in the process.  
  
So at last, though mentally and physically exhausted — she sleeps peacefully.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning she finds him in the office. "I'm ready."  
  
Ward takes in the solidity of her claim and firm resolve in her stance and nods, reaching for the hidden file under his paperwork and hands it over without protest. "We leave tomorrow."  
  
* * *  
  
Of course they are separated nearly as soon they enter the premises.  
  
It's not a huge surprise, considering everything they've been through — and he has covered _Enemy Warfare 101_ until her eyes were about to permanently cross — but it does disorient her for a few seconds.  
  
Even though she knows Ward can handle himself (and is trusting her to be okay without him) it still feels like a loss when he's not in her line of sight. There are half a dozen men left and she's not even winded. It would be easy to reach deep, find the way their spinal cords glow (the way she did the first time she ever killed a man with her bare hands, only now she probably doesn't even need to touch them to do it) and sever them completely.  
  
And yet, it would be harder. 

  
  
  
(She's sitting with her ankles crossed on top of her knees and he's standing over her, hands fisted at the waist with a stubborn tension to his jaw.  
  
"You're trapped. What happens?"  
  
"I assess the situation. Find out what I can do — and what I can't."  
  
"How many are there?"  
  
She rolls her eyes. "I don't know, this is your fantasy."  
  
"It's a _hypothetical_ , Skye. Treat this like any kind of training simulation."  
  
Of course he doesn't rise to the bait — he's suddenly managed to tap into infinite stores of patience. The closer they get to finishing this entire thing, the more she feels like she's about to explode — and yet somehow he has become the grand zen budda of instruction.  
  
"It doesn't matter how many there are."  
  
"Why?" The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile and it should be stupid that it makes him happy (of course she listens, she _always_ listens, even when she doesn't want to) she has been paying attention.  
  
"Because I have to get through them, whether it's one or one hundred."  
  
The smile falls and she sees a hint of exasperation crack through his zen master facade. "It'll never be one hundred, Skye."  
  
"You never know!"  
  
He firmly steers the discussion back on track and ignores her wide eyed plea for a change in topic. "When there's more of them than there are of you — divide and conquer. It's the oldest trick in the book.")  
  


 

  
Skye reaches for her gun, takes a deep breath — and starts to fight.  
  
* * *  
  
He knows what the play is here.  
  
He knows what the play is, because much of what Raina has been doing has been lifted directly out of Garrett's playbook — and if there is anything Ward knows (has known, _will ever_ know) — it's how Garrett used to run things.  
  
They're going to first separate him from Skye. Draw her away, exhaust her resources until she gets sloppy and then either try to knock her out or back her into a corner. They will use him as bait.  
  
Ward takes out a dozen men and breathes deeply. They have planned for this. He knows what should happen next — and instead of allowing this knowledge to taint him (because it feels like that is all Garrett ever left him with, just a black soul and world of regret as he ghosted through life), he is going to use it. Let it instead be the legacy John leaves behind —  
  
  
( _"It wasn't always bad."_  
  
_"Tell me about him."_ )  
  
  
When the next wave of soldiers come from the stairwell, Ward is ready.  
  
* * *  
  
They meet up somewhere less than a third of the way through the building, on an observation deck that overlooks what is probably a halfway decent restaurant.  
  
Skye comes skidding through the exit doors and nearly careens into him — in fact, it is only his quick reflexes that keep them from both tumbling to the ground.  
  
"You're okay?"  
  
He nods, gripping her shoulders tightly before pulling her close. She exhales forcibly and and he can feel her worry as it prods at him, gently inspecting for injury or cause for concern.  
  
"You?"  
  
Though her face is a bit paler than he'd prefer, there is still that Skye fire burning in her eyes. She's ready. He tips his head back to gaze upward and nods grimly. "Here we go."  
  
She grabs him by the lapels and drags him close for a kiss and promptly scrambles every operational thought he has.  
  
It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up. "What was that for?"  
  
Skye shrugs and seems lighter for it. "Seemed appropriate. It's kind of our thing."  
  
Ward shakes his head in disbelief and pulls her in line behind him. "Let's go."  
  
* * *  
  
Nothing can ever go entirely to plan, and this is no exception.  
  
(Which is why Ward _hates_ variables; a plan is only as strong as its weakest variable. And this plan was riddled with enough variables to keep him up all night.)  
  
Just before they reach the executive floors, guards come from a hidden doorway. They put up a good fight, but there is no divide and conquer here — they are simply outnumbered and lacking room to maneuver.  
  
While they are being frogmarched to the roof (where of course, Raina is waiting — because why should she be in an office or a lab like a normal person?) Skye looks at Ward from the corner of her eye and sarcastically mutters, "It'll never be a hundred, right?"  
  
The chuckle is totally worth it when the guard closest slams the butt of his semiautomatic into his gut because a mocking Skye is a Skye who is still very much _here_ with him.  
  
_Of course I am, robot. I could find you anywhere._  
  
And in that moment — despite the fact that they are very possibly being led their demise — it is enough.  
  
* * *  
  
It wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for the flowers.  
  
After all the training and the instruction and the self control — they had totally forgotten about Skye's aversion to orchids. And when they hit the roof, it is like deja vu all over again; a veritable forest of flowers, overpowering the senses and threatening to drown out every last thought in her mind.  
  
"I'm so glad you decided to come. If it had taken much longer, I might have had to acquire Director Coulson as an incentive."  
  
Despite the fact that he knows she wants to tear Raina apart limb by limb, for even suggesting that she would use Coulson as a hostage against her (after all, it was her fear for Coulson and the team that had her walking out in the first place) Skye only bares her teeth in an insincere smile. "I don't like to be rushed."  
  
"That's true," Raina agrees, meandering over to them among baskets of overly-large orchids and other exotic flowers. "Though not everything can happen when you want it to, Skye." There is something chilling about the curiosity that shines nakedly in her eyes, the raw hunger when she looks at Skye as if she is something that she wants to take apart and put back together again.  
  
Ward shifts on his feet restlessly, wishing he could foresee how Raina thought she could walk away from this. (Wondering how _they_ are going to walk away from this.)  
  
"I'd hoped we might discuss things like civilized people this time. Consider the audience a bit of," Raina gestures vaguely where he knows there are snipers trained on them, " _Insurance_."    
  
"I have nothing to say, you psycho." Skye nearly spits in her face and steps away from Ward so that he does not feel the effects of her raging emotions so strongly.  
  
"Yes, I can see how this might be a bit difficult. Let's start with something light to ease you into it." Raina looks over at them with a tiny smile. "I was wondering… did you like that present we left for you at the bakery?"  
  
This time he can feel the arctic rush of Skye's shock and disbelief. He wants to turn and look at her, make sure she is okay, but cannot afford to take his eyes off Raina for a second.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"They're a trigger, little monster. You hate orchids so we made sure there were just enough to…" Raina shrugs delicately, "drive you crazy."  
  
From the corner of his eye, Skye is shaking her head in disbelief. "No. That's not true."  
  
"I'll be the first to admit: they're my _favorite_. We've been with you since the Playground. You didn't really think you were that powerful, did you? We never wanted you to turn into the Hulk. Just reach into that darkness inside and see what came out to play."  
  
The silence is so complete it feels like the world has stopped turning on its axis.  
  
This is his absolute worst nightmare come to life.  
  
Skye — who has barely gotten her abilities under control and come to grips with the very real consequences of what happens when they are not kept in check — being told that she has been nothing but a puppet all this time. Ward aches because he knows ( _god, does he know_ ) first hand just how empty and horrifying a feeling that is.  
  
"You let those innocent people die because of me?"  
  
"No, Skye." Raina is calm in the midst of the hurricane that is about to unleash — and she's oozing sympathy so thick and fake it is a wonder they're all not drowning from it. " _You_ let those innocent people die. Just like you're going to let Ward die today."  
  
A terrifying scream erupts from Skye, the tendons in her neck standing out in relief to her inner battle to stay calm. Raina said they didn't want to turn her into the Hulk — and maybe that is partly true. But they absolutely want Skye to lose all control and freak out — and that is what makes it so heartbreaking.  
  
There is a battle waging behind her eyes, something fierce and primal that she is struggling to contain. Underneath the pain and disbelief is a swirling maelstrom of fury and desperate need for revenge. Instead of looking frightened by this very real demonstration of Skye's abilities left unchecked, Raina is smiling widely and all but clapping her hands in delight.  
  
And then he knows: _This_ is **_exactly_** what they want. They've been planning for this moment all along. To see what Skye is capable of.  
  
"You made a _mistake_ ," Skye smirks cruelly, moving closer to Raina — who does not seem at all alarmed, nor does she make any attempt to move away.  
  
"What's that, little monster?"  
  
Skye is breathtakingly angry. "I'm not under Shield jurisdiction. That means I do what I _want_ ," Skye fastens her hands on Raina's shoulders and the atmosphere begins to crackle. Something dark and very dangerous is seeping from her and Ward is having difficulty breathing. The dreamy smile on Raina's face slides away and morphs into confusion that ratchets into pain as Skye begins to layer on emotion after terrifying emotion.  
  
* * *  
  
_she is angry that she had to walk away to leave the only family she has ever know, to protect them from this insane flowered freak show; there is a such bitter sorrow at the losses that have been caused by her hand however inadvertently; a heart that is filled to bursting with regret for not being able to control what had happened when the bakery exploded, that all her training with ward was for nothing because she had failed; was a failure, would never measure up or be strong enough to withstand the fear on her own._  
  
_she takes the despair and the pain and shapes them into arrows with dagger-sharp tips that don't nick the edges as much as they decimate at will and begins to aim them to the glowing dark lilac that is raina. she watches from far away as they begin to blacken the other woman's life force and eat away at her spine and organs while they are drained slowly of life._  
  
_blindingly intense copper explodes onto the scene and begins to corrals all of her emotions until she is able to take it and compact it with her bare hands. then she squeezes to make sure it is still a live, breathing thing and shoves it into raina's chest as hard as she can and —_  
  
* * *  
  
Raina is now down to her knees on the ground, mouth open in a wordless scream of agony while Skye remains over her with a darkly triumphant smile on her face. If Skye keeps this up much longer, she will murder Raina in cold blood. And Skye is many things — but killing Raina isn't like killing some faceless person who wants to put a bullet in his head. Killing Raina will propel her onto a path that he would do _anything_ to prevent — it will only lead to emptiness and heartache and she has suffered enough for this already. Killing Raina isn't going to fix anything and in fact will only make it _so much worse_.  
  
He knows that touching Skye now will feel like he is being burned alive. But he has to pull her back from the edge and there is no one else who can. He forces himself to his feet and clamps a hand on her shoulder. A hundred thousand knives instantly barrage his senses and he has to grit his teeth to hold on. " ** _Skye_**." He waits until she is looking at him before he shakes his head. "Not like this."  
  
"She killed _all_ of those people! She wants me to **_kill you_**!" Her wrath and desperation are so thick he can almost taste it; and he knows, he _knows_ what that kind of power can do. The kind of destruction it can justify and the special hell it will bring afterwards.  
  
Ward has to find a way to shut out the agony because it is overwhelming and he is nearly blacking out from the excruciating pain dancing up and down his spine. "This isn't going to help."  
  
It doesn't look like she is going to stop any time soon and Ward puts everything he has to be able to cup her cheek gently and force her attention on him. "Skye. _Trust_ _me_." He ignores every instinct screaming otherwise to close his eyes and drop his forehead against her. _I am trying to protect you._  
  
At last, there is a broken sob that tears at his defenses and he knows she is back with him. Slowly the incoming pain begins to recede, and the energy emanating from her softens. It no longer feels like his spine is about to break in half. There is still so much darkness and despair in the air he is almost choking on it.  
  
It is enough of a reprieve for Raina to turn wild, bruised eyes on Skye, who runs the razor's edge risk of her control slipping. "Consider that your _insurance_. Come after us again, and I will _end_ you," Skye darkly promises her, then uncurls her clenched, shaking fingers from Raina's shoulders and lets her fall backward.  
  
Ward ignores the sight of Raina's crumpled form and drops to a crouch in front of Skye. "You with me?" They have a very small window to escape and he needs Skye to hold it together while they do.  
  
Skye nods and allows him to help her up. She must be able to read him, because he can feel her redirect her efforts in front of them and he begins to plan an exit strategy.  
  
_Which way?_  
  
Ward lets his hand slide down to her wrist and tugs gently. "C'mon."  
  
Like the flip of a switch, gunfire erupts all around them.  
  
From the outside perspective it must seem odd -- despite the vicious attack from every direction, nothing seems to touch them. Ward is used to it enough by now that he doesn't focus on anything but getting them out. Skye will keep them safe until it's over.  
  
A crew of half a dozen highly trained operatives descend upon the roof and collect Raina. They disappear with her in a sea of ammunition, covering their tracks and defending the rest of their team at the same time.  
  
* * *  
  
_she can't keep drawing from her own pool of emotions. if she does, she will finish raina here and now. there is something that calls to her, a darkness that wants to stamp out her life and permanently ensure that no one else can be hurt by that woman._  
  
_but this fight is too much for ward to take on by himself and she needs to be the one who ends it._  
  
_her training wasn't just for show. she knows there are other ways of harnessing the emotion she needs. it is just a matter of knowing where to get it._  
  
_she thinks of being safe in the guest room at home and opens herself up to the regret and determination that is layered inside the building. the stress of getting work finished on time, the anxiety that the job may not be there tomorrow. the frustration of not having the right words to say to the cute person in the elevator; the lack of interest in lunch options from the cafeteria. the gaping shock of being fired without just cause; the bitter regret of having to sign off on termination papers and cowardice of saving oneself instead._  
  
_all of these things — these are residual emotions from the office building. they linger heavily and some are more easily drawn than others._  
  
_she pulls on them — she locks them in good and tight until they are snugged in like soldiers headed for a war — and then she **yanks** with everything she's got —_  
  
* * *  
  
Skye turns back only once, with a terrifying expression bleeding regret and slowly unfurls her fingers by degrees.  
  
Ward watches as the building starts to disintegrate before their eyes. Brick dissolves and mortar turns to dust as the foundation shakes from the ground up. Her lids are at half mast and she is hardly breathing while the destruction rages on. She begins to sway on her feet alarmingly — huge chunks of rebar enforced concrete fly and explode at a dizzying rate, taking out the hidden snipers and severely damaging the structural integrity of the building.  
  
When it looks like she is gearing herself up for another bout, he yanks on her hand and drags her away until finally, the activity stops. She takes a few more powerless, wobbly steps and goes unnaturally still. He has a split second warning ( _can't hold on anymore_ ) before he turns and catches her. She's done. Ward holds her in his arms for a moment and simply breathes.  
  
He wonders if she hates it, what they've unleashed in her.  
  
(The hatred makes it so much harder to control. He would know.)  
  
And with the stars at his back and Skye in his arms, he begins the long and quiet trek home.  
  
* * *  
  
She sleeps for three days.  
  
* * *  
  
For the first time since they have started their journey, Ward breaks the rules and calls Coulson. He brokenly tells him of Skye's sacrifice and the darkness that has been woken up inside her. Next he warns of Raina and the very real suspicion that there are Hydra informants to be weeded out, even at the Playground. Before he can say the "I'm" in _I'm sorry_ , Coulson is giving Ward explicit instructions to care for Skye while she is recovering.  
  
The precision and level of detail can only have come from Simmons and Ward cannot help but wonder what that means.  
  
There is a crisis — of course there is — and so as much as it is kills him, Coulson cannot drop everything to personally make sure that Skye will be okay. He tells Ward to check in with him daily and keep him updated on her progress.  
  
He bows out, because he is a classy man. (And because, not that long ago, they had asked him to and he is respecting their wishes.)  
  
The medicine arrives within hours. Shortly after receiving supplements from Simmons, Skye's color has improved dramatically. She does not thrash about during the night or seem restless. If anything, she seems at peace.  
  
Ward slowly breathes out the tension that has crept up and nestled in his neck and shoulders and grips her hand tightly. She does not respond, though her breathing is deep and even.  
  
He brings their joined hands to his mouth and kisses her knuckles gently. _Come find me,_ he thinks.  
  
As he drifts off to sleep, he senses a playful warm caress behind his ear.  
  
_Always_.  
  
* * *  
  
Skye surfaces briefly only to find Ward draped over her protectively. She opens her mouth but cannot speak. With an exhausted, frustrated sigh she pokes at him.  
  
Ward jumps away in shock with his jaw dropped. "You're awake."  
  
Skye grits her teeth, feeling the edge of fatigue gripping relentlessly to draw her back under. _We made it?_  
  
He nods grimly. "What you did was reckless." Through her groggy haze, it looks like it costs him tremendously to continue, "But very brave."  
  
_You can yell at me tomorrow._  
  
"Close your eyes," Ward orders, tucking in a blanket around her. "I'll be here when you wake up."  
  
_I'll find you_.  
  
* * *  
  
When she wakes up again, there is soup on the table.  
  
Ward always makes soup after a blowout.  
  
He used to do it when they would train on the Bus and he'd pushed her too hard. It was his way of trying to apologize. They had discovered that she wasn't the best at keeping food down after emotions ran high but soup was usually on the safe list. Skye reaches carefully to bring the bowl to her mouth and sips at the hot liquid.  
  
Ward comes back from the kitchen with a towel, drying his hands. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Pretty crappy."  
  
He winces in sympathy. "Sorry."  
  
She sets the bowl down. "Thanks for the chicken noodle."  
  
"Coulson rang while you were sleeping. You may want to give him a call back."  
  
"I'll think about it. Honestly, I just need a break."  
  
She is still on overload from the confrontation with Raina and fallout afterwards and the thought of debriefing with Coulson makes her a little nauseous. Even though she doesn't regret saving them, she never wants to relive that day again.  
  
They decide to watch something ridiculous on her laptop to take their mind off things. He makes popcorn and retrieves a bottle of wine and for a couple of hours, they both pretend like this is a normal Friday night for them.  
  
(It is.)  
  
Ward feels the heavy weight of Skye's head land on his shoulder and looks down to see that she has dozed off. After the past few days they've had, he is not surprised. He relaxes the control he has on his thoughts and exhales slowly.  
  
Regret is too weak of a word to properly express how badly he feels, that it has come to this. Skye was supposed to be protected from it. Everything he had worked for was to keep her safe, and she got caught up anyway.  
  
Skye mumbles in her sleep and he looks at her quietly, thankful that she is still in one piece despite it all. The smart thing to do would be to carry her to bed and then head to his own room. He shifts away and feels her hand on his forearm.  
  
"No." She sprawls along the length of the couch and forces him to move with her or else risk falling off entirely. Skye is wedged neatly between the cushions and the entire span of his body and still she maneuvers until her head rests on his chest. "You keep the nightmares away."  
  
Ward really doesn't have the strength to deny her this.  
  
"Go to sleep," she orders softly, drawing a hand up to lay over his heart.  
  
He does.  
  
* * *

  
**This is how it ends** :  
  
  
  
There is an attached garden and terrace on the roof of their building that can only be accessed through the penthouse. It is there that Ward finds her, sitting with her legs dangling over the side of the building.  
  
He can feel his heart leap into his throat and is about to lunge for her when she turns and reaches a hand toward him. "Help me back?"  
  
It's such a simple statement (thank god, she _wasn't going to jump_ ) that he wants to laugh at the irony. Ward laces his fingers tightly through hers and tugs firmly until she is away from the ledge and standing safely in front of him.  
  
"Even if I had jumped, it's not like I couldn't have survived it." Skye mutters sulkily, sounding petulant about the fact that she is somewhat indestructible.  
  
"A fall like that would be fatal," Ward disagrees, trying to keep his tone gentle and free from the terror racing through him at her casual disregard for her own life. (Were they going to need to bring in Coulson after all? Could he really not be able to reach her after everything they'd been through?)  
  
Skye frowns and looks up at him. "I didn't mean it like that."  
  
"You'll have to excuse my confusion," he struggles to remain calm despite the fact that this discussion is making him feel like his heart is going to leap from his chest. "Because we do spend an awful lot of time on rooftops and we're over the sides of them more than normal."  
  
"No, I mean —" Skye takes a deep breath and focuses on a point somewhere in the distance before returning her direct gaze to him. "— It's you."  
  
"… _What_?"  
  
She gets very quiet and seems to curl in on herself. "I never told you exactly _how_ I came back that day."  
  
The terror of seeing Skye get backhanded over the ledge of a roof comes rushing back and Ward feels sick. "I don't actually think that's something we need to revisit."  
  
"Clearly, it is. Give me your hands." She drags him over to the outdoor lounger and they sit down. "Now close your eyes."  
  
He does—  
  
  
_he looks down to see golden steel stemming from his heart. it looks indestructible and is traveling outward until he finds it wrapping ribbons around skye like a blanket. it goes where she does, allows her to breathe deeply and move uninhibited — but there is not one part of her body unprotected._  
  
_"that's you."_  
  
_skye sounds as if she is speaking underwater, and when he looks at her he sees a bright copper band weaving its way out through the mass of gold. it doesn't look too substantial, not until he realizes — with a shock — it is braided into each fiber of the gold steel; it comes throughout and winds around until it is nearly impossible to tell where one starts and the other ends._  
  
_it protects the steel until it cannot possibly be penetrated._  
  
_"that's me."_  
  
  
— Ward blinks and is suddenly back on the roof.  
  
She's watching him carefully. "Don't you see? You make me _equal_ to the task."  
  
He wants to know how she can be saying this, feeling this way. He's not exactly the poster-boy for a risk-free life — the last couple of months have basically proven that — and he feels responsible for so much of what she has gone through. "Everything I've ever done has wound up putting you in danger. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place."  
  
Skye shakes her head in refusal and looks at him with patient understanding. "Look, since we've started this, you haven't flinched. There's a strength in you that I need and can't get from _anyone_ else. What I'm asking of you probably isn't fair and shouldn't fall on just one person. You _know_ I trust you. But this? It's so much more."  
  
"Skye," Ward breathes, watching the bright emotion in her eyes.  
  
She brushes off his interruption, and stands up so that she can pace to relieve some of her restless energy. "I don't just trust you to protect me. I trust you to be the line in the sand. I trust you to make the hard call. I trust you completely. _Unequivocally_. I trust you with everything — _all of it_."  
  
(She's right. This is so much more than what they were before. This is bigger than stealing the Bus and running away from all their problems and leaving their team behind.)  
  
He looks at her, at a total loss for words, completely undone. The gravity behind the _only_ words she hasn't said (does she even really _need_ to at this point?) weigh in the room heavily.  
  
"Why?" Ward finally croaks out, overwhelmed by her honesty.  
  
_**C'mon**. You know why._  
  
After all this time and everything they have been through, she still has the power to render him immobile. He has to grab hold to remain standing. It's so much more than he has ever dreamed of.  
  
With a steady, confident gaze she asks, "Okay?"  
  
  
(It is **_everything_** , and he knows what she's asking; it's:  
  
_will you stand beside me for the rest of this_  
  
and  
  
_i promise not to walk away even when things get bad_  
  
and  
  
_you are the person i want next to me, always_.)  
  
  
  
It takes everything he has to manage a single nod, and even that feels like a gargantuan effort after such an onslaught of information and feelings.  
  
"Good." Skye walks into his arms, breathing an enormous sigh of relief.  
  
Ward automatically holds her tight and closes his eyes against the staggering wave of emotion. He can't tell if it is coming from him or if it's something that she is projecting — it doesn't matter. " _God_ , I missed you."  
  
Skye tilts her head up to smile crookedly against his lips. "Welcome home."  
  
* * *  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN YOU BELIEVE IT'S DONE?! I can't. 
> 
> In all fairness, I will probably return to this universe (since I've spent so much time in it already, haha) with some other fic. There is also a very (emphasis on VERY) brief epilogue that I will try to get around to posting next week. 
> 
> PS: if there's anything you want to share, i'd be delighted to hear your thoughts about this series (what worked/what didn't, etc.) As much fun as it was to write, it was even better knowing you guys enjoyed it, so thank you for that.


	6. loving you's a bloodsport | fighting in a love war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby epilogue, as promised.
> 
> this is really the end. (for now.)

_loving you's a bloodsport_  
 _fighting in a love war_  
  
* * *  
  
 **This is how it ~~ends~~ begins (again).**

  
  
Months later on a rooftop somewhere when their mission has been blown to Hell:  
  


  
Skye turns her back to him and holds off their attackers with a gun in each hand, firing shot after flawless shot. "You got this?" She shouts over her shoulder.  
  
Ward shakes his head at her sass and locks in the rappelling hook securely. "Just waiting for you to stop showing off."  
  
She grins brilliantly and flicks a hand casually to the right. The roof on the next building caves inward like a gaping maw of a black hole. "Ooops." She still does not feign apology well.  
  
He rolls his eyes at her theatrics. "Let me guess: You couldn't help it?"  
  
"They were getting on my nerves."  
  
"You know _I_ have to write our reports when you do that, right?"  
  
"Bummer."  
  
There is a chopper equipped with heavy firepower coming in from the east and a gunman hanging low with an AK47 aimed in their direction. Coulson and May are screaming in their comms, ordering them to _abort mission right now_.  
  
Ward looks at her and raises his eyebrows. "Well?"  
  
She shrugs and peers over the side. "Long way down."  
  
"Nothing we haven't managed before."  
  
Ward takes a moment to zip her vest closed and do a last minute check of her gear. She allows it — because she knows it's part of his process — but mostly because they both know that any kind of demonstration with her abilities tend to leave her tired and a bit more agreeable to his unnecessary protectiveness.  
  
The incoming bullets come to a stop in front of them as if caught by an invisible wall. Skye doesn't even flinch as the rounds increase, though he notices her fingers curling restlessly.  
  
" _No_ ," he scolds firmly, weaving their fingers together.  
  
"You're no fun," Skye grumbles.  
  
Ward yanks her close — ignoring her delighted laughter — and they free fall off the roof. 

  


**fin.**


End file.
